


like a beautiful carol, i get lost in your song

by wildhalos



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A Christmas Carol AU, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:40:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildhalos/pseuds/wildhalos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Tomlinson has become many things in the five years since One Direction ended, and a Scrooge is not one of them.  However, there are three ghosts on his doorstep who beg to differ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a beautiful carol, i get lost in your song

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote half of this LAST Christmas so apologies if anything reads extra 2012 era. Also warnings for what could be read as cartoonish bad guy Louis in the very beginning. Gotta work in a Scrooge somewhere, eh?

**PART ONE**

_*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*_

It’s 6:30 in the morning when Louis Tomlinson grabs for his stupid alarm and chunks it against the nearest wall. 

As he rolls over further into his linen sheets he makes a mental note to have his assistant buy him another, but seeing as he hasn’t broken one in almost a week, he figures she’ll be expecting the errand anyway. He groans into his pillow wondering why it must be so bloody cold in London, regardless of the fact that it is very nearly Christmas, and it would be completely unnatural for things to go any other way. 

However, Louis Tomlinson is not a very rational man at 6:30 in the morning. 

He finally musters up enough energy to rise from his safe haven, slips into a pair of warm fuzzy slippers he can’t seem to get enough of and goes to ready himself in his bathroom. Letting his weary eyes roam over his reflection he sees the face of a man quickly approaching twenty eight. He dimly remembers a time when he didn’t even want to turn twenty, too afraid of what leaving his teens years would insinuate. 

As he looks at himself now, messy stuble that he should get to taming, eyes a bit too bloodshot from a night out, he sees a face very fit for twenty eight, and it excites him. Well, as much as anything actually excites him these days, which to be fair is not much. 

He brushes his teeth going through his to do list for the day, already developing a headache from how much he just knows his employees will want to slack off today. 

“Lazy bums,” he mutters through his mouth full. “It’s only the 23rd there’s still plenty work to be done. But no no no let’s slack off and play Secret Santa and have breaks twice as long so we can bake cookies for god sake I’m trying to run a company here.” He pauses in his early morning rant to spit the foam into his sink before reaching for a towel to wipe his disgruntled face. When he peeks back at his reflection he takes a deep breath to steady himself. 

“There, there, Tommo, don’t let them get you in a state. This is your company. You built it. You are on top,” he says revving himself up for the day. As he exits through the master bedroom, he ignores the little voice in the back of his head that tries to correct him as it’s not _his_ company per see but rather his and Liam’s. But Liam hasn’t been into the office in almost two weeks and he’s not had a civil business conversation with Louis in even longer, so Louis thinks it’s high time he started taking credit where it is due.

“Good morning Mr. Tomlinson”

“Yes, good morning, Sandra,” Louis greets his assistant as he descends the staircase.

“The kitchen staff has made you French toast with a side of sausage this morning. Your tea is just how you like it”

“We didn’t use that cheap sausage again, did we?”

“No sir, of course not. It’s all been sorted.”

“Good.” Louis has a seat in his normal spot, the dining table much too big for just him alone but since when did he need company to enjoy a nice breakfast anyway. “I’m going to need a new alarm clock by the way,” he mumbles somewhat sheepishly.

“You’ll have it by the end of the day,” Sandra requites with a knowing smirk. 

Louis has always known he liked her. Even when he and Liam interviewed her more than a year ago, there was something in her persona that made him forget his tough exterior. She put him at ease and he appreciated that. It was necessary with how easily he got wound up these days.

“Any messages then?”

“Yes a couple actually,” she starts, looking through her phone’s notepad. “Wilson rang. Said he needs the day off.”

“Again?” Louis blurts, “He’s barely been in all week!”

“Yes I know,” Sandra agrees trying to be heard over Louis’s impressive boom, “but he’s having a few personal issues. His son-“

“His son would appreciate a father who knows the value of hard work. I want him in today.”

Sandra does her best to conceal the furrow of her eyebrows with a simple reply of “Yes sir, I’ll get right on that.”

Louis grunts through the predictable messages from “Mr. Payne” about papers he’s faxing over and contracts to be signed as if Liam thinks Louis can’t handle his own business for god’s sake. He’s half way through enjoying his breakfast before his assistant relays another message.

“Also Mr. Styles phoned,” she announces tentatively testing the atmosphere of the room. Louis’s fork stops half way to his mouth. 

“D-did he now?” he retorts putting his utensils down. Did she notice how tense his back had gotten?  
“Yes, um he said it was rather important. That he’d appreciate a ring back.”

“Right,” he answers with a nod. “Well you’ll just have to tell him that I’m far too busy. Some of us have work to do,” he quips rising from his seat. “Feel free to help yourself to breakfast, but I want the car ready to go in 20, my dear.”

“Yes sir.” She answers, smile polite, eyes kind.

He gives one more definitive nod before making his way back up the stairs and locking himself in his room. Once alone he lets his head rest back against his door and lets out a breath he doesn’t remember holding. His fingers twitched in the direction of that stupid photo he’s spent so many hours gazing at. 

He doesn’t know how much time he’s spent staring at those two kids, so hopeful for the future to come, eyes so bright. But the future rarely turns out the way you think it will. He chuckles darkly when he thinks of what the young boys in that photo, with their goofy Christmas hats and thousand watt smiles would think of what their lives have become. What _that_ Louis would think of _this_ Louis’s choices. No he thinks to himself. Today is not the time to open up those old wounds. He runs a tired hand over his face to clear his thoughts before making his way to his closet. He has work to do.

**********

One of Louis’s favorite things to do is to walk into his own company. LEGEND Records with its bright interior and his corner office calling his name never ceases to amaze him. 

“Mr. Tomlinson, hi. May I have a word with you?”

Louis turns from what he was definitely not pretending to be a catwalk down the runway to see one of his employees looking at him in that desperate way that they do whenever they’re forced to seek him out. “Wilson, yes of course. I think we should have a chat as well.”

Turning on his heel and insinuating that Mr. Wilson should follow he continues to waltz into his office. Too focused on his own agenda as these things usually go, he is too distracted to see the encouraging nods Mr. Wilson gets from almost everyone in the building as he follows suit. As Wilson enters the pristine office he gets one more encouraging nod from Sandra who is positioned at the corner of Louis’ desk.

Mr. Wilson was a nice guy with great ideas when he applied for work at the company. Somewhat short and not looking a day over 35. Louis remembers him having kind eyes, when he was interviewed. However, looking him over now as he almost cowers in front of him, Louis couldn’t help but pick up that his eyes had lost somewhat of the sparkle he remembered them to have. Hmm, must be thinking of someone else I guess Louis thinks to himself. 

“Mr. Tomlinson thank you for seeing me; I know you’re very busy,” Wilson rushes out. “It’s just, I don’t think I’ll be able to finish the work day as I have a few things I need to attend to at home?”

Louis purses his lips at the man because honestly he could not be serious. “You’ve been missing work quite a lot lately...” he trails.

“Yes I realize, but I make sure all the work gets done and I have some of the other guys on the floor covering me, so the company isn’t hurting at all—“

“You can’t just expect other people to do all your work for you while you reap the same benefits Mr. Wilson.”

“No, I realize. I just—“

“We see you here at the company as somewhat of an asset Mr. Wilson,” Louis states aimlessly swirling the end of his capped pen on his desk. His eyes bore into the lackluster ones that Wilson possesses. “But if you’re not willing to carry your weight, I’m afraid some changes will have to be made.” Louis quirks an eyebrow to make sure his point is clearly understood. 

Wilson’s breathe catches at the sight

“It’s completely up to you, Mr. Wilson. After all, we’re in charge of our own choices in life are we not?”  
“Yes, uh, yes of course Mr. Tomlinson,” Mr. Wilson replies somewhat defeated. “I’ll just be getting back to work. No need for any changes, right?” he says with a very forced smile.

“Exactly my thoughts.” Louis’s smile is just as cold, just as forced. “Oh and Wilson,” Louis calls out as the small man is turning to exit the room. He swivels his neck, keeping his eyes locked on the ground while still making it evident that the boss had his attention. “Remember that I’m doing this for you. Success cannot be achieved without a bit of hard work, yes?”

Wilson gives a stout nod, before heading back out to his desk. After handing over a few papers which needed to be signed, Sandra exits as well. Out of sight of Mr. Tomlinson’s office, several people from the floor could be seen comforting a very disheveled Wilson. There there mate, we’ll figure something out. It’ll get better. We’re here for you. 

Louis’s nose is too far into his work to notice anything out of the ordinary.

*********

It’s a few hours before Louis realizes he’s had a message waiting for him all day. He’s sighs not particularly in the mood to talk to any of his executive partners or any of his artists complaining about hotel accommodations. He presses play on his machine still looking over some paper work.  
And then his heart stops.

“Louis,” the voice breathes like it’s the most natural thing in the fucking universe even though Louis can’t even bring himself to say the voice’s name more days than not. “Hi uh, it’s Harry.” 

He stops the message before it can go any further, and he pretends not to notice how much his hand shakes as he touches the button. He’s so mad at the man for still having this much of an effect over him, mad at himself for letting it happen. He takes a breath to steady himself before rising from his desk deciding he needs air. He grabs for his coat leaving his work decidedly halted as he goes for the door.

“Going to lunch,” he calls to Sandra.

“Are you sure, sir. I could have had you something sent up..”

“No no, I think I’d appreciate some air. Take messages while I’m out,” and he almost regrets the normal salutation as he heads down the hall. 

Surely Harry wouldn’t call again right? What does he even want?

_No. No no no you stop that right now, Tomlinson. It’s not important._

It’s just Christmas. And this always happens at Christmas. One would think after all this time, Louis would start to expect Harry’s annual calls. Something about the season has always gotten to the other man, not that Louis would ever admit that it gets to him as well. 

But try as he might he could never deny that Christmas had always been their time. It was special for them. So many milestones they’d taken in the snowy Christmas cheer, so many of their favorite most cherished memories together were the product of this disgustingly happy season. And still, Louis always expected that one year, Harry would lose interest, decide not to call, choose to forget all those memories and move on. 

As the bitter December air hits his face, he accepts it with blissful relief. It’s been five years and he still can’t seem to avoid that piece of his past. Of course he’d never want to forget Harry, or One Direction, or their lives together, but that didn’t mean it needed to stop him from leading the life he’s chosen to live. 

*********

When Louis makes his way to the small restaurant around the corner, he’s more at ease as he slips into his usual lunch time table. He’s pulling off all his extra attire when the young waiter with the nice biceps comes up with a pad and pencil. He’s got jet black hair cropped short and an ass to rival Louis’ on his best day. His face just screams nice guy but Louis happens to know he’s rather filthy when the opportunity arises. He makes sure to roam his eyes over Louis frame and lick his lips before speaking. Very filthy Louis reiterates. 

“Hello, Mr. Tomlinson,” the boy says with a cheeky smirk. “Can I get you the usual or would you like to try the soup of the day?”

“Soup sounds great on a day like this, thanks, Ryan,” he says still trying to warm his hands from the short walk over. 

“Alright, it’ll be out in just a minute,” he says filling his water glass to the brim. He saunters away obviously making an effort wiggle his hips from side to side. Louis makes a mental note to have him bent over his couch again sometime soon. 

The meal does a great job of calming his nerves, the potato soup hitting just the right spot. He leaves a grand tip for the chef and makes sure to let his hand graze over Ryan’s hip on his way out. “Busy tonight?” he whispers in his ear.

“I think I can manage a night out,” the boy smirks knowingly. 

“Good, I’ll meet you at the club then.” He grips his waist a little harder pulling the waiters back in to his chest, “Don’t keep me waiting,” he commands darkly. 

Ryan lets out a small breath to steady himself and nods as Louis loosens his grip and leaves. Louis’s not one to flag the status of his personal life around town. The only thing he makes sure of is that he keeps any catches away from his work life, a lesson he’s learned the hard way when a chance hook up with a doe eyed boy from the mail room upon the start of his corporation almost ended his new career before it even started. So he’s sure to keep it safe with waiters, and bartenders, and cute guys who run the newsstand a couple blocks down. They’re easy catches and they don’t expect more from him, just the way he likes it. 

He’s still not completely keen on going back to his office just yet so he catches a bench not far from the restaurant and rings his sister. He starts to think she’s too busy to answer when on the fifth ring, “Louis, _darling_.”

“Charlotte, _darling_ ,” he answers right on cue. “How are you on this very bleak and dismal day?”

“Overworked, underappreciated. The usual.”

“Ah a travesty, that.”

“Indeed,” she continues. “I’m actually getting everything in order for dinner Christmas night. A dinner I should expect to see you at, yes?”

“Um right, about that—“

“Louis you promised!” she screeches so loudly Louis has to pull the phone away from his ear. “It’s our first Christmas in the new house; everyone’s going to be here. Rod and I were looking forward to seeing you.”

Louis has to actively resist the urge to roll his eyes at that. What kind of name is _Rod_ anyway. “And has Rod found a job yet?” is all he can find to reply.

“He’s working on it…” Lottie replies, defensive but suddenly smaller in voice. “Just promise you’ll try to make it, okay?”

Louis sighs. “Yeah I’ll try it’s just I have so much work, you know?”

“Yes, Lou I know but you’re always working,” she chides. “And partying if the tabloids have any truth. But it’s Christmas,” she tacks on far too chipper. Louis makes an effort to ignore the bitter taste in his mouth at that. It’s Christmas, he thinks somewhat wistfully.

“Is there anything else you need to talk to me about?” Lottie asks seemingly hesitant. That’s new. “I mean just, you know, was there anything on your mind, or…”

Louis scrunches his brow wondering what his sister could possibly be getting at. “Well aren’t you being coy,” he says taking the bait.

“No no, just making sure there’s no other reason you called is all,”

“Ah. Well there isn’t. I just wanted to check up on you lot.”

“I see,” Lottie says with a tut. “Well if that’s all I really should be going. I’ve left the twins alone for far too long and you know how they get around flammable things. Can’t have them burning down my new kitchen now can we?”

Louis laughs, proud he isn’t the only Tomlinson worse for wear in the kitchen. “Send them my love yeah.”

“Of course my dear,” his sister replies ready to get back to her preparations.

“And tell Rod that December 23 is still an acceptable time to job hunt. It’s not Christmas just yet.”

“Ugh, goodbye Louis! I think I’ve had enough of your rays of sunshine for one phone call,” Lottie retorts but she’s laughing, nonetheless, as she hangs up.

He lets his senses overwhelm him as he takes in his surroundings. Not too far down the block there seems to be a crowd of people listen to a barber shop quartet singing a buzzing rendition of _Sleigh Ride_. He makes a mental note to check his group’s Christmas single on the charts when back at the office. 

There’s a flock of gorgeous white birds whose name Louis can’t place not far from him. Strange, Louis thinks, they don’t seem characteristic to the area. They leave in a flash though as an overeager toddler makes his way barreling towards them. He looks to the sky to his right as he watches them fly off. 

Looking in this direction, it’s the first time he realizes there’s someone sat beside him. A young lady, pretty, but reading one of those trashy mags that Louis has made his mission to stay away from for years now. 

Upon seeing the biggest headline he remembers why. It feels like the ground just falls out from under him. He almost wishes it would, just swallow him whole right then and there. His lungs can’t find enough air and brain feels like it’s slowly spirally away from him. 

He thinks he should get up, run. That’s what his instincts tell him anyway. Get away from here, make it stop. But his legs feel like they’re made of stone and he doesn’t think the dizzying sickness he feels in his stomach would respond well to much moment anyway. So instead he stares. Stares at this headline that makes his entire world seem to stop spinning.

**EX POPSTAR HARRY STYLES _ENGAGED_ **

*********

He’s sat for another hour before the cold gets to him and he realizes his body is growing numb in something other than a metaphorical sense. He shuffles his way back to his office nose red, eyes bleak. Upon entering, Sandra rises from her seat in a flurry.

“Mr. Tomlinson, I was starting to get worried,” she says as he makes his way past her, not even acknowledging a word has been said. Something in his eyes must have been obvious, hinting at the infinite black cloud that accompanied him like a school girl who’s lost her first crush.

“Mr. Tom-- , Louis?” she asks tentatively reaching out to touch his arm. That brings him to life if only a little, but it’s enough to chase off the zombie he’s been for the past hour. 

“Right, yeah sorry, I just got a bit distracted at lunch, uh, right I’ll just get back to work yeah?” 

She gives him a sad smile and has a somewhat knowing look her eyes. Of course, he thinks, the whole world probably knows by now.

“Any messages?” he blurts trying to change the subject. The wince that crosses her face lets him know instantly that yeah, maybe that wasn’t the best thing to ask. 

“Just um,” she stutters, “M—“

“Mr. Styles? Walked right into that one, didn’t I?” he laughs without humor. “I’ll be in my office if you need me then,” and with a swift turn he’s gone, Sandra looking sadly behind him.

As he settles back into his office he’s got a war in his brain. He sends his sister a simple text.

**You knew didn’t you?**

It takes her barely a minute to reply.

_I’m sorry, hon :(_

_If you want to talk about it, I’m all ears yeah? Xx_

He’s sure he hears his phone go off a couple of times after that but he pays it no attention. He thinks a drink would do the job, midday be damned. So he goes to his fridge in the corner and shuffles past the celebratory champagne to the stronger liquor towards the back. He pours himself a glass of straight whiskey but figures he should start with something quicker, harsher. He grabs for a bottle of vodka that was gifted to him from an associate, the kind that turns brooding business men into alcoholics overnight. He looks at the clear liquid and he’s never been more excited to let it take him over. 

Raising the glass just above his head in salute, he mutters, “To the happy couple,” and with that he attempts to drink the misery away.

********

Drinking on the job was not one of Louis’s best ideas to say the least. He doesn’t know what time it is, but the sun has set and his head is pounding from the massive load of work contracts and forms on his desk. The picture he keeps of him and Harry is burning a hole in his pocket, begging to be looked at, and it’s given him a hell of a headache. 

“Sir?” Sandra peeks her head in his door. “It’s getting late, maybe you want to call it a day.”

“Vintage has a promo tour starting in February; there’s still a million and one things that need to be done before the new year alone. I think we need to kick up the hours these next couple of days to stay ahead of the game,” he slurs in a haze, all of his words running together. 

“Sir..the next couple of days is, well it’s Christmas,” she says looking at him as if he’s forgotten.

He’s swirling his drink around in his cup as he quirks an eyebrow at her. “Success is only possible if we’re willing to put in the work. If this company goes under within the next year because we all can’t seem to tear ourselves away from a Christmas ham for a few hours, well, that’s not going to help anyone, now is it?”

Sandra looks like she wants to tell him how unreasonable he’s being but she knows that in his current state it would only be a losing battle.

She thinks he doesn’t notice how sad her eyes look as she walks out, but he does, and it’s a look he’s seen plenty of time before. It’s I don’t understand you and I can’t be around you and We’re done here. 

It makes him sick in a way he doesn’t want to explore. 

He’s locking up his office within the hour—thinks that even if he has to be in early tomorrow he needs this night out so god help him. 

It’s as he’s almost to the exit that he realizes he’s not the only one left in the office. Strange he thinks, no one’s ever ambitious enough to stay this late. He’s about to commend the poor sod, clap him on the back for being a diamond in a patch of coal, maybe invite him out for a drink. He definitely does not expect the sight that awaits him.

On the other side of the cubicle he sees Wilson looking rather worse for wear. He seems to be doubled over and--wheezing? Sandra is there, rubbing comforting circles on his back. He can hear the gist of the conversation drifting his way.

“Wilson you should head home; this isn’t helping anything,” Louis’s assistant murmurs.

“No, I just need to finish the last of these files. I have to,” Wilson argues.

“Hon, you know the guys on the floor will take care of that for you. You should be home.”

“And You know I can’t risk putting them in jeopardy like that. If he finds out—“

“He won’t find out, I assure you. Please go home,”

“NO. I can’t risk losing this job Sandy. The medical bills I...there’s no way I’ll be able to pay them otherwise. I have to do this. I’ll just work a little extra tonight and tomorrow and maybe I can make it back home for Christmas. It’ll work out, just let me do this!”

“Look doll,” she pleads, “I know Mr. Tomlinson can be intimidating at times but he’s—“

“A Scrooge, Sandy.”

Louis startles at that, not only for the name but because that voice belonged to someone he hadn’t noticed was in the room. He risks a quick peek and sees another two people sat off to the side, one clearly shaken by the situation, crying into her handkerchief, the other looking rather menacing. He recognizes the man as his chief producer, Matty and feels a trill of contempt run through his spine.

“I wouldn’t go that far. He means well,” he hears Sandra defending him meekly and he feels his heart lift a bit.

“Oh give it up, Sandy. He’s a scrooge, and we all know it. Have you seen him lately, walking around here acting as if this is the biggest record label in the damn country. We have what, two acts?”

“Three, if you want to get technical,” Sandra says through tight lips.

“Snap Dress is dead, everyone knows it. The rest of them will be the same the way he’s running this company into the ground.”

Louis is more appalled than he can express, repeatedly gaping from the other side of the small wall. Who does this guy think he is, and where does he get off? Louis Tomlinson is no scrooge. Ambitious yes, challenging sure, but he had a business to run!

“Go home, man. We’ll take care of it okay?”

“ But Tomlinson—“

“Louis Tomlinson is a fucking joke, alright,” he hears Matty bellow. “He’s never cared about anybody but himself. I’m not going to let him ruin your Christmas!” There’s a beat of a breath before his voice comes out a little softer. “Go home; your family deserves to see you.”

Behind the wall, Wilson nods to his coworkers, eyes sad in such a hopeless predicament. Louis rushes to hide in a dark corridor as they make their way out of the small room. Matty’s got his arm around a sniffling Wilson, Sandra holding the other lady who still seems wrecked. Louis can’t make out her face in the dim lighting, but he has a feeling seeing it more clearly will not help him sleep any better that night, so he keeps his eyes trained on the floor as they make their way out. He misses the chaste kiss Wilson places to her temple and the way he clasps her hand as they walk out towards the elevator. 

Louis’s at a loss for words as he comes out of the corridor. When he can finally bring himself to look up, all he sees is an empty office and he wonders how much success he’s actually gained from all his hard work.

*********

In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have gone out that night. He should have ended the day early, as it had already been too eventful for his taste. But people rarely ever do what‘s best for them. So late on the night of December 23, hours before his birthday, Louis Tomlinson finds himself in a very excited bar on the east side of London itching for a fix he thinks can only be given to him by a bottle and an eager waiter. 

The club is one of the places Louis and his boys would frequently visit when they had more time and patience for each other. He remembers them having Christmas drinks here almost exactly a year ago, everyone but Niall arguing that they didn’t think that was actually a thing but showing up, nonetheless.

It doesn’t take Louis long to spot Ryan. To be fair it’s hard to miss someone moving like that on a dance floor. His movements are long and practiced and extremely enticing. Louis saunters over to him as bass bumps through Louis’s bones, shooing the crowd that thinks they have a chance with him.

Something tugs at his memory then, maybe it’s the song playing, maybe it’s the fact that this place is using almost the exact same Christmas decorations as last year, but he feels himself falling back into a past Christmas.

_“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Louis whispers nosing into the back of Harry’s neck, nodding towards where Zayn and Perrie are sitting at the other end of their table in greeting._

_Harry smiles into it, tilts his head back with a smirk. “Look who finally showed up; took you long enough.”_

Louis is admittedly still hazy from a day of drinking so he can only hope his smile comes off as flirtatious and not creepy. “I don’t think I’m up for the party vibes tonight,” he says. “We could just head out if you’d like,” he offers suggestively and tugs on the boy’s waist for good measure.

“No, no, no,” Ryan teases him turning in his dance. He wiggles up closer to Louis barely following the music any more, more so just revving the young businessman up. “You owe me a dance.”

_“ And the very least you could do is throw in a drink, sir. Where have your manners gone?”_ is what Louis’s subconscious chooses to dredge up and dammit if his mind isn’t racing from last year enough already. He thinks he can still feel Harry laugh into Louis’s neck at his own joke while continuing to press against him. Louis may be somewhat out of it. 

_“Fine,” he’d agrees to humor him. “My apologies.”_

_Harry grins at him devilishly at that, and Louis recalls how much the boy likes it when he plays along. “But,” he adds on, ghosting his lips over the man’s ear. He’s delighted to feel him shiver against him. “I’ll be expecting a hell of a good show after this.”_

_Harry’s eyes are twinkling as he replies. “I’m always good.”_

Somehow Louis is able to snap himself back to the present enough to make it through two more dances, but he doesn’t have a chance to pay for Ryan’s drink before he’s being dragged off the dance floor and into the restroom. 

_“Don’t,” Zayn says to him in warning._

_Louis only scoffs, “Don’t what?” even though the both know full well what._

_“Louis,” Zayn chastises through a smirk, “You’re a grown man. Both of you are. If you wanna bang him at least take him home first.”_

_“Home,” Louis echoes as if it were a foreign concept to him. “And I suppose you also want me to put him on a bed and like cuddle him after, hmm?” He’d turns his attention to Perrie and faux whispers, “You’re husband is quite boring, I’m so sorry, love.” That earns him a giggle and a glare from each party._

_“It’s not what I want you to do,” Zayn quips, “but I’m sure it’s what you want yourself.”_

_Louis rolls his eyes even though the thought sends butterflies raging in his stomach._

_“And you know they have cameras in all the restrooms now, don’t you?” Perrie offers and Louis gapes at her in betrayal. All he is offered back is their satisfied, know it all smiles._

_“Boring, boring , married people,” he’d accuses waging a finger at both of them before Harry returns and grips at his waist._

_“Hi,” he greets only to Louis to which Louis’s cheeks heat up as he returns an embarrassingly breathless, “Hi.”_

_He’s vaguely wondered if that would ever wear off and adamantly hopes the answer is nope, never gonna happen._

_Harry smiles down at him with his eyes and nudges his nose against Louis’s own. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”_

_“Boring, boring, married people,” Zayn and Perrie chant under their breath together just loud enough for Louis to hear._

_Louis, however, is saved from answering at all when Liam walks up to them. “You can’t go yet, it’s not even midnight! We’ve still gotta wish Tommo a happy birthday.”_

_There isn’t much arguing to be had as they settle in for another hour of lingering glances and accidental touches that had Louis known would be gone so fast, he would have appreciated that much more._

“God, you look so good tonight. Think you’re funny having me wait for you all night, huh?” The waiter is practically panting into Louis’s ear already, and the businessman gets hot knowing how badly he’s wanted. His head’s been too full today and he just wants to feel good, if only for a few minutes.

“Sorry, love,” he sighs back and if the sentiment tastes wrong on his tongue, he ignores it. 

Instead Louis gets lost in the way the other boy can move his hips, the way he forces him against the nearest wall, the way his arms are strong enough to hold him there. Usually Louis would fight him for it, always one for dominance, but today he’s just so tired. 

_He’s sliding his hand down the front of the Harry’s trousers making a quick job of his button and zip, before they even make it fully into his flat. His fingers start kneading at his length through the fabric of his pants and god does he love the way that boy moans in his ear. He gets one good shiver racing down his spine before Harry is bent down freeing Louis from his restraints. They both let out a breath of relief when his cock springs free. Louis feels the boy get a good hold of him before he slithers back up his body._

_“God, you’re eager for it aren’t you?” he rasps into Louis’s ear and it’s only then that Louis realizes he’s rocking into his hands. Honestly, they’re a mess, panting like teenagers and fumbling around in the dark._

_“Just shut up and do something about it, yeah?” he retaliates. Because yeah, he really needs something right now and he doesn’t care how he gets it. But if there’s one thing he loves about the boy in front of him, it’s that he knows how to take orders._

_“Only because you’re the birthday boy,” he says and he doesn’t hesitate then to press Louis further into the wall, his own cock rubbing between Louis’s thighs as he comes closer. Grabbing both cocks in his hand, he makes quick work of sliding them together drawing it out in the way he’s learned will drive Louis insane. Still working them with one hand, he grabs for Louis’ waist and lifts him just so for better leverage, using Louis’s back against the wall for support. The shift does nothing for the actual mechanics but christ does it turn Louis on, and as he laces one hand through the boy’s hair, he gives his shoulder a bite of approval._

“Uggghh,” the waiter whines pulling Louis back to the present as he gets a grip on Louis’s ass and pounds against him harder, cocks flushed between them.

And Louis thinks this is exactly what he needed: just action, no thoughts. He’s been thinking far too much for one day. So he definitely does not think about how Ryan’s lips are so very plump and familiar on his neck. Just like he didn’t think about how the guy from the newsstand had those curls, or how the girl from the deli had those startling green eyes, or how the bartender he hooked up with last night had the second most amazing dimples he’s ever seen on anyone. 

Nope, he doesn’t think about these things at all. And it’s definitely not the memory of similar lips on him that finally sends him over the edge coming with a shout onto the heated boy in front of him. 

They’re both panting as Louis slides off the boy’s hips and the blissed out expression on the waiter’s face would be much more entertaining if Louis’s high wasn’t spiraling down and quickly winding out of control. They make a swift job of cleaning themselves up. Ryan lets his lips grace over a bruise he seems extremely proud to have made upon Louis’ neck. 

“We should do this again sometime. Maybe draw it out more in the future,” he smirks into Louis’ ear. 

“Yeah, definitely,” Louis says at the same time he thinks “Never gonna happen.”

“You know where to find me,” he answers, eyebrows quirked. And with one final graze of his hand on Louis’s hip, he’s out the door. 

Louis finds his way to the nearest sink and let’s his hands grip both sides of the expensive handiwork. He makes a pointed effort to not look himself in his reflection as he catches his breath. As he grabs for his coat and dusts it off he thinks yeah, he’d much rather have gone straight home tonight, so he does just that.

*********

To say the universe was not in favor of Louis having a smooth day would be the understatement of the year. Louis can’t help but contemplate this as he makes his way back to his flat. His head is still spinning in the whirlwind that has been this crazy day, and the only thing keeping him going is the thought of cuddling up close with his extra fluffy body pillow and so help if one more thing gets in the way of his calm, collected plans today he might just go insane. 

Unfortunately for him, the universe does not actually give two shits about the way we think things should go. No, sometimes the universe just likes to have a good laugh as it destroys our plans because who are we really to tell the universe anything. 

This is the life lesson Louis Tomlinson learns as he’s almost to his flat door and realizes that none other than Harry fucking Styles is at his doorstep. _Good one, Universe. Bet you’re just having a blast with me today now aren’t you?_ he thinks to himself.

He’s stopped a good 6 feet away just staring, willing the image on his doorstep to go away. Maybe he’d just drank too much, maybe he’s got pills in his system he doesn’t remember taking, maybe he’s already asleep and this is just his subconscious playing a cruel joke on him. Anything, he is literally hoping for anything, that would will this creature from his past to not be waiting for him those few feet away. 

He’s not doing much, casually leaning against Louis’s door with his boots crossed at the ankles while he thumbs buttons on his phone. It takes him a while to notice Louis, but when he does, it feels like Louis’s heart is about to skyrocket out of his chest. 

Harry jolts when he sees him, straightening his back as he stands taller.

“Louis..” he breaths, and Louis absolutely loathes it. Because who gave him the right to waltz in here and say his name like that? Who said it was okay for him to show up with that face so filled with passion and want and need? Where the fuck does he get off making Louis feel more complete in that one word than he has in a lifetime of random hookup and barlight shenanigans. Louis can’t stand the sight of him, and he wants to make sure he knows it.

“What are you doing here?” he says, tone harsh. “You shouldn’t be here.” 

He makes to push past him, just make a quick break of it and shut him out. But Harry knows him too well and he’s right on his heels.

“It’s Christmas, Lou,” he states with simplicity as he tries to playfully shimmy up to Louis. “How could I not be here?”

Louis gets another flash from the previous year. 

_“Happy birthday, baby. Merry Christmas,” Harry murmurs into his skin again and again sending both of them into a helpless fit of giggles as if they were school children instead of fully grown men._

“So I guess congratulations are in order?” he spits, regaining control. If Harry freezes at the accusation he doesn’t comment on it.

“Y-you saw that did you?”

Louis can’t help the look of incredulousness that crosses his face at that. He can barely contain his snort. “The entire world saw that Harry; I don’t live under a rock you know.”

Harry’s doing that thing where he stares at the ground and refuses to look up. Louis doesn’t have to glance down to know that his feet have gone pigeon toed as well and that he’s probably scuffing the floor with the toes of his shoes. Honestly, he just wants to slap him. Or kiss him. Pin him down. Make him beg for it and shit has he had a lot to drink tonight or is it just him? 

He shakes his head in search of common ground. “You can’t keep coming here, Harry,” and this time his voice is a twinge softer. “You can’t just show up here every year and expect something to happen. I mean, it’s fine. You’ve moved on--that’s good. I’m…happy for you.” He says the last part strained. 

But Harry is shaking his head urging Louis to stop speaking. “Christmas is our time, Louis,” he argues finally peeking up at the man in front of him. 

“When are you going to stop acting like that means anything?” Louis asks before he can stop himself. “We barely see each other any other time of the year—“

“You can see me whenever you want, you know that.”

“—I don’t understand how you can act as if this is any different okay there’s not some kind of magically Christmas pixie dust that’s going to save us, Harry.”

Harry looks at Louis like he’s searching for something. Like he can’t possibly comprehend what the Louis means. 

“It’s your birthday, babe,” he says inching closer. His hand reaches up to caress his cheek and Louis definitely does not think about how in all these years he hasn’t managed to find a fix that can match up the hands currently touching him. “How could I not be here,” Harry continues. 

His eyes look sad, almost desperate. The romantic inside of Louis wishes he’d evolved less stubbornly, that he could just cave because oh, how he wants nothing more than to have those hands on him forever, burning his skin, healing his wounds. 

But if Louis has proven anything in his now twenty eight years, it’s that he is his own destruction. And destructive he must be.

He catches Harry’s hands on his face and sternly removes them. His eyes pierce into those sparkling greens and his heart shatters as he feels like he’s about to break him.

“I need you to leave,” he says, voice flat. “We’ve been here before, Harry, we already know how this ends.” He forces the other boy’s chin to stay up and remain eye contact as he finishes, “I need you to go...and not come back.” He’s not sure Harry’s even breathing at all anymore but he feels he has to do this. “You’ve obviously found someone for you, and I’ve got people too, you know.”

Harry’s eyes train themselves on Louis’s neck, and he blushes as he realizes the boy probably noticed those bruises long ago, the second he laid eyes on Louis.

Harry’s shaking his head, seeming to find more of his bearings. “No, Louis just listen to me, all right?”

Louis thinks the lump in his throat might actually suffocate him if he has to endure this another second, but he knows Harry won’t leave. Not on his own. He knows the boy can’t bring himself to give up like this. So Louis helps him. Grabbing him by the elbow he gently yet firmly tugs him to the door. 

“Oh c’mon, Louis,” is the last thing he hears as he escorts Harry onto the other side of the doorway. His voice is still playful but Louis can see the cracks raging in his demeanor.

“I’m sorry Harry,” and god fucking damn it if his voice doesn’t crack as if he’s morphed into a pre pubescent boy again. 

Angry at himself and the entire world he shuts the door and sinks down into the crippling realization that yeah, it’s actually over now. Because this time next year Harry’ will be _married._ The year after that he’ll probably have a kid. And Louis’s just thrown away every piece of hope he’d held of them finally figuring it all out. 

He tells himself that deep down he knows it wouldn’t have worked out. He’s been here before, and he knows more than anyone how the story goes. He vowed a long time ago that he refused to put them through that terror again. Because Louis Tomlinson is destruction, a Scrooge, and all his knows how to do is destroy and destroy and destroy. 

As he makes his way up to his bedroom, cold and destitute, he pulls the photo from his pocket for one last time.

_“Louis,” Harry whispers where they’re curled up together on the rug in the living room. “I um, I have something to tell you.”_

_“Mmm,” Louis hums drowsy and half asleep already, “Well spit it out then.”_

_He notices where Harry fumbles with his hands and reaches down between the two of them to clasp them. Looking up from under his lashes he nods for Harry to continue._

_Harry takes a breath and then:_

_“I’m moving to New York.”_

Louis remembers how his hands had fallen from Harry. It feels a lot like how he releases the hold on their photograph now, lets it flitter from his hands to burn in fireplace.  


  

**PART TWO**

Louis is laid face down into his pillows with the sun annoyingly streaming through his window when he awakes. He thinks he hears talking, and he wonders how on earth his workers could be so loud. 

Someone in particular is talking with a rather thick Irish twang not too far from him and he has half a mind to kick them out for the remainder of the day. 

“Could we keep it down please, I still have time before my alarm goes off,” he groans trying to retain a shred of polite nature.

“Well are ya ever gonna get out of bed then? We don’ have all day ya know!”

Louis has to physically restrain himself from going ballistic in that moment because honestly, the nerve of some people. 

“Um excuse me!” he asserts ready to give this guy a piece of his mind because really he has lost all patience at this point. Though as he rises, he feels like he might very well swallow his tongue.

Because standing in front of him is a very convincing clone of an eighteen year old Niall Horan.

“Oh god,” Louis croaks beyond himself and he realizes that yeah, somewhere somehow last night something other than alcohol obviously got into his system. “I’m never going out again,” he says gripping his temple. 

Niall, or whoever he is, seems to not care too awful much about the clear existinal crisis Louis is experiencing as he carries on about the room playing with all the trinkets he can get his hands on.

“Are you quite ready then, mate?” he asks nonchalantly.

“You’re dreaming, Louis, just will him away. God, I knew that bartender looked sketchy, fucking prick.”

“Oh, ha, sorry I guess I still have to introduce meself, huh?”

Not-real-Horan makes his way in front of the boy and develops an air of more professional stature. He clears his throat. “Ahem. Hello Louis Tomlinson!” he bellows with grandeur. “I am the ghost of Christmas past, woooo.” He raises his hands just above his head tacking on wiggly ghost fingers and swishy sound effects for good measure. 

“What?” Louis snorts trying to contain his chuckle. One shot at hallucinogens and this is what he dreams up?

“The ghost of Christmas past,” fake Niall says still wiggling his fingers. “Come on mate, didn’t you ever read Dickens in school. You telling me you never watched a Muppet’s Christmas Carol?” he continues looking genuinely concerned for the businessman in front of him.

Louis actually does laugh this time if not for the fact that he’s actually driven himself insane, then because an incredulous eighteen year old Niall is still one of the funniest things he’s ever witnessed.

“Well that’s just sounds like a blast, really it does, but I’m afraid I’ll be missing out on the festivities today, sorry. Got work and all that.” Louis says getting out of bed thinking maybe if he just leaves the boy in his room will go away as well. 

“But that’s not how it works!” Niall debates, and Louis almost jumps out of his skin when suddenly the boy is in front of him as opposed to across the room, not to mention half of his body is still in a fog behind him. 

“What. The. Hell.” Louis trembles near tears though he’ll never admit it later.

Niall seems confused before glancing around himself and the still hazy parts of his figure before he realizes. With his eyebrows scrunched he points a finger at himself and says quite dumbly, “Ghost.”

Louis knows his mouth is open, but give him a break. There’s a small Irish boy making a very convincing claim as a mystical being not a foot away from him.

“You always this slow, or is this just a morning thing,” Ghosty says waving a hand in front of Louis’s face.

Louis has half a mind to be offended, but to be fair he’s still having a hard time keeping up. “So… you’re gonna take me to go see stuff…from the past?”

“Now you’re getting it,” Niall says with a nod. “Come on, I wasn’t kidding when I said we don’t have all day. “

“Wait but, who are you exactly?”

“I’m the Ghost of Christmas Past,” he answers simply and Louis has to resist the urge to hit him because, duh. “But,” he continues after a beat, “your brain morphs me into whoever you want me to be. Why? Am I some completely dashing fellow in your eyes right now?” He strikes a pose with his hand behind his head and lips pursed for emphasis.

Louis feels a twinge of happiness looking at his old friend like this. “Yeah,” he chuckles. “Yeah something like that. Do you mind if I call you Niall then?”

“Nah have at it. Whatever makes the journey easier for you.” He takes a step to the side and looks intently off to a random distance. “Ready to go then?”

Somehow Louis knows resisting won’t do any good. And really who is he to deny himself such a mystical Christmas adventure, even if it does turn out to be only a dream. With that in mind, he takes a hesitant step closer to Niall and nods. 

“Alright but no funny business. How do we do this?” Louis asks looking around expectantly for a ghost mobile or a flying carpet or a tardis or something because hell, he doesn’t know how these things work. 

“Just come here,” Niall says holding his arm in a right angle at his side. 

“OH! Are we going to, like, apparate then? Is that actually a thing?”

“Stop asking questions,” Niall deadpans.

“Ok, come on Ron,” Louis says exaggerating his accent, “can’t be spotted by the muggles. I’d rather not be on the cover of Witch Weekly again. Those moving pictures are not very flattering on me, you know.” 

Louis’s never actually wondered if it was possible to make a ghost roll is eyes, but he feels and indescribable glee knowing that yes, in fact, it is. 

“This is going to be a long one,” Louis can hear Niall mutter to himself, but he likes to think that deep down he’s providing quality entertainment, whether Ghosty here wants to admit it or not.

It’s not real apparating they do, Louis notices as a bit of a letdown. More like some kind of weird ghostly swishing, no “pops” in sight.

When they arrive at their destination Louis feels a smile tug at his lips. “Doncaster,” he whispers to no one in particular. 

“Yep, Doncaster, Christmas 2004. And if I’m not mistaken you should be coming up just…there,” Niall says pointing in the distance. Sure enough, up the sidewalk comes a prepubescent Louis Tomlinson, pulling a wagon with two very blonde girls in the rear. It’s not that Louis squeals when he sees them. Except that he definitely does. 

“Oh look how cute and small they are, awww!” he practically screeches, eyes crinkling at the sides. They walk past him on the other side of the road and he can hear an endless loop of the chorus of _Jingle Bells_ as they go. 

“Man you got to make them stop,” he hears someone saying and realizes that they have a preteen Stan in tow with them. 

“Stanley where is your Christmas spirit?!” he sees himself respond, and he doesn’t know whether to laugh or hide his head at how extremely high pitched his voice was back then. Granted he’s still no Morgan Freeman now, but he’s had a progression to be proud of. Glancing back at them he’s proud to see his old self joining in on the festivities, and screaming them into Stan’s ear.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the wayyyyyy. Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh, HEY!” he yells rather obnoxiously jumping around the snowy path. His sisters have gotten even louder in their carriage excited to have a new singing partner.

“God make it stop!” Stan yells, covering his ears.

“Join us Stan; feel the Christmas cheer!” Louis yelps sending an impressive glob of snow tenfold to his best friend’s head.

Louis’s smiling harder than he has in ages as he hears a shout of “It’s on Tommo!” and sees the two launch a full on snow fight. The girls have stopped their singing only in favor of squealing in glee at the onslaught.

“This is the last time I go out with you lot,” Stan says after a while, out of breath. But everyone can tell he’s enjoying himself all the same.

“Oh shove it; you love us.” Louis retorts. 

“We’ll see how much I love you all when I don’t bring over any of my mum’s Christmas desserts this year.” Stan starts to walk backwards to the side of the road Louis now occupies, towards the direction Louis knows his house would be.

“Yeah we’ll see,” young Louis yells back. “Say goodbye to Stanley, girls!” and a chorus of “Bye, Stan, see you later,” is sang before they go back to their rendition of Jingle Bells. 

They continue on their way back down the street and Louis looks at Niall for guidance. He signals that it’s okay to follow, so he keeps a close step behind them. The closer they get to his childhood home, the more excited he becomes. 

They edge into the house, and an overwhelming smell of vanilla hits his senses. God, did his mother love that stuff. The banister next to the stairs has everyone’s stockings hung proudly, with an assortment of ballerina stockings and football cleats unceremoniously scattered between them. The wall is filled with pictures of the family before the twins and Louis feels so weird seeing it incomplete as such. He looks back about to tell some story to anyone who will listen, when he sees Niall in the doorway, studying him. 

It’s then that he remembers: Oh there was actually a purpose to coming here. Not just a free trip. He looks for his younger self and finds him still in the doorway wrangling his little sisters. His brow is furrowed, and Louis realizes he’s listening to something. He hears murmurs coming from the direction of the kitchen and suddenly he remembers this day perfectly.

He follows the sounds and sees his parents sat at their old dining table with pad and paper in front of them. 

“Jay it’s impossible,” he hears his step dad tell her. “There’s not enough this year. They’ll just have to do.” Louis sees his mother look over to her husband. She seems much more tired than he ever remembers her looking as a kid.

“It’s literally all they want, Mark. I don’t think a doll house is asking for much,” his mother argues.

“A very expensive doll house,” he corrects her, “The numbers just don’t add up, dear.” 

Louis peeks back to his old self by the door. He’s biting his lip like he’s nervous, and having quite a time getting the girls out of their snow boots. “We’re back from the park,” he finally calls out and Louis sees his parents rush to replace their calculators with convincing smiles as their three children walk in the room. 

Older Louis walks over to where Niall is leaning against a cupboard and looks at him with confusion. 

“What gives, this isn’t even Christmas day.” he whispers.

“You can speak normally,” Niall laughs at him. “They won’t hear you. And it’s still the Christmas season, so it counts.”

“Why do I feel like you’re just making this stuff up as you go along?” Louis questions before turning back to the scene in front of him. 

“I’m sorry did you go to ghost school?” he just makes out Niall respond, but he ignores it.

“Uh mum,” Louis sees himself call attention. “I’m gonna be at football practice a lot for the rest of the week.”

“Again?” she asks appalled, “Louis do we need to have a talk with that coach of yours? It’s the holidays; why’s he working you all so hard?”

“That’ll be everyday for over two weeks now, Lou. I think I should come down there tomorrow,” Mark agrees.

“No!” Louis rushes, “It’s fine really. It’s just we play Northgate right after the break and you know how nasty they get over there. He just doesn’t want us out of shape is all. No big deal.”

His parents share a glance between each other. “Okay, but you don’t have to overwork yourself there. You can take a break if you need to, honey.” His mother coos the sentiment into his hair. 

“Yeah I know,” young Louis says fidgeting about. 

Standing next to Niall, Louis sees the ghost has caught on to the strange atmosphere of the room. “I wasn’t really going to football practice,” he explains. “I’d got a few jobs around the neighborhood. Cleaning house, shoveling driveways, that kind of thing.”

Niall nods in understanding, “How grown up of you,” he comments. “But they don’t know that?” he says pointing at the mother and father still tutting around the kitchen about how it’s just a secondary school team and there should be boundaries set, as they get lunch on for the family.

Louis laughs at that. “Definitely not. Mark there came driving down a street I was working on once, I guess on a lunch break or something. I almost broke my ankle trying to spring behind the pile of snow I was shoveling,” he snorts. “It went really well with the ‘I’ve been playing football all day’ bit, but I think my coach got a very angry and needless to say confusing phone call that day. It’s a wonder I didn’t actually get caught.” He can’t help but laugh at the memory. 

“What were you working for?” Niall asks, intrigued. 

“The doll house,” he states pointing towards his sisters at the table. “I heard them talking about how they couldn’t afford anything that Christmas, but they would have been heartbroken without it. Probably would have thought Santa hated them or something. I just, I figured I’d help out, you know,” Louis says with a nonchalant shrug. 

“Well aren’t you a little superman,” Niall teases hugging the businessman. 

“God get off of me,” Louis yelps playfully, and how a ghost can manage to smell like an eighteen year old boy, he will never understand. 

“Maybe we should skip ahead a little,” Niall says taking hold of Louis’s shoulder, and he feels the room shift around him. 

There’s screaming in the living room, and Louis gets up to see everyone gathered around the tree. 

“Alright who’s ready for some gifts?” Mark says fully decorated in a santa hat. “Me! Me! Me! I am!” the girls screech. “Alright, alright,” he attempts to calm them. In the next hour, the room is completely trashed with wrapping paper everywhere, and though the family was struggling that year, the girl’s rack up a considerable amount of toys in varying shades of pink. Louis is very into his new handheld game and is proudly sporting a crisp, new jacket. 

“Wait Daddy there’s one more!” Lottie calls out.

“’Where,” he asks looking quizzical. 

“Over there, see!” she asserts getting up with her pointer outstretched. 

Between the wall and the tree, very carefully hidden, is a box that neither Jay nor Mark remembers being there the night before. They search each other’s eyes for an explanation before Jay goes to read the tag. 

“To Lottie and Fizz. From Santa?” 

The girls are on it like leeches before there’s any more room to question, and the looks on their faces are priceless. It’s clear what it is not far into unveiling, and the girls are rapt in awe. They can do little more than look on it from their seats on the floor, mouths hanging open in wonder. 

Both Louis’s can hear their parents in a battle of “Was it you? Well it wasn’t me.” before young Louis interrupts. 

“Sounds to me like a Christmas miracle,” he says shortly and returns to his game.

“Oh I knew we’d been good this year. I just knew it!” Lottie’s got Fizz in a game of merry-go-round circling the living room rug. 

“A miracle indeed,” Jay says dumbfounded.

“Merry Christmas everyone!” Stan calls barging in the door, “My mum baked dessert!” 

Both Louis’s and even Ghost Niall can’t contain their laughter at the announcement.

Once he’s caught his breath, Louis turns to Niall. “Not that I don’t appreciate seeing this again, but why’d you bring me here? If anything it proves I’m not a scrooge don’t you think?”

“It all makes sense in the end mate, trust me. Though I’m afraid we’re actually done here. Ready for the next adventure?”

“Aw, but we haven’t even had dessert!” he whines back, but he knows it’s time to leave so reluctantly grabs on to Niall’s elbow, and with one last look at the happy gathering in front of him, they’re gone.

**********

Louis surprises even himself at how slow he can be on the upkeep sometimes. He’s so wrapped up in memories from his childhood that it doesn’t dawn on him to mentally prepare himself for what the next stop may be. It doesn’t cross his mind to care until he’s standing outside the bungalow because of course the Christmas after X Factor is on the list of visits. 

“No,” Louis says simply as Niall starts to walk to the door.

“What?” he asks midstep. He’s looking around like he expects something to fall out of the sky.

“I don’t want to see this one. We can skip right? You said it’s whatever I wanted.”

“I said you can call me whatever you wanted. You can’t change the stops though,” he explains like he’s talking to a toddler. He comes over and claps Louis on the back. “Otherwise, what’s the point, right?” 

Louis is breathing heavily through his nose, and he takes a minute to let the cold hair clear his mind. 

“Fine, okay let’s go,” he concedes, and they walk through the door completely unnoticed by the party inside.

For the second time that day, it’s not actually Christmas but it’s the week of the holiday, so Louis figures it’s alright. Despite his worries he can’t help the smile that completely engulfs his face as he approaches the crowd in the living room. Every possible seat is taken over by Harry’s family, Louis’s own family, and all the boys in tow as well. 

Yeah, Louis remembers this Christmas better than most. It was right after the wrap of XFactor and he and the boys still had no idea what would become of the band. They’d promised to spend the days before Christmas together, trying to ensure that they’d stay close. The last thing they’d wanted is to lose four of their best friends at the drop of a hat. And so, Harry’s bungalow seemed like the perfect place to start the holiday festivities before going their separate ways, back to their respective towns and lives. 

Louis watches them now, and if he thought seeing Niall from about that time was something, he can barely contain himself looking at the other boys now, Zayn with his hair significantly lower than it would be for the next four years or so, Liam a good fifteen puberties ago. He sees himself sat with Harry in a chair just on the edge of his peripheral, but he’s not quite ready to face those demons yet. Instead he keeps his attention trained on the other boys. Zayn seems to be having a time getting through a rather hilarious story if everyone’s doubled over postures are anything to go off of. Niall looks like he’s about to pass out from lack of oxygen, already gone a beet red.

“And then,” he says through a fit of laughter, “he just comes charging on stage during our rehearsals, yeah?” He has to take another break. During his pause Louis hears a female chorus of “No! He does not!” and he sees his mum and Harry’s mum on a couch, whipping away tears. 

“He does,” Liam butts in nodding vigorously. “Tell em, Zayn.”

“He does!” Zayn coughs out, “And then he goes, ‘BOYS, I know it was you, now where are my pants?” 

The whole room erupts into a fit of laughter and even Louis has to smile at the pure joy in the room. 

“Poor Matt,” he hears his own voice in the distance. “Wouldn’t go near us for a week!” 

Louis can’t help himself anymore; he has to look. And then he has no control over how hard he has to roll his eyes at the sight.

“You two look really cozy over there,” ghost Niall says into his ear, stating the obvious. 

Because it really is blatantly obvious. Louis looks over at his younger self practically sat on Harry’s lap and he has to scoff. Yes, there are quite a few people in the room, but it would have been completely possible, not to mentions much more practical, for him to have found another seat. Though to be fair, Harry doesn’t look like he minds too much as he laughs into Louis’s neck, everyone still in a state over Zayn’s story. 

A feeling of wistfulness washes over Louis as he watches their exchanges. He catches them share jokes just to themselves, and it feels like it’s been centuries since he’s had that comfort. He notices more now from his outside point of view than he did originally. Like how their mothers bump elbows and point out every time they move impossibly closer. Or how his sisters keep making kissy faces when they’re not looking. Had he really been so daft as not to see all of this back then? 

He sees Gemma peek her head out of the kitchen then, announcing that there are cookies done, sending a near stamped after her. He smirks seeing himself hold Harry back until everyone is gone, and they opt to trail over to the piano in the corner of the room instead. Louis scoffs as they bump shoulders on the way over.

“I’ve been practicing,” young Louis sing songs at Harry as his hands graze over the keys. 

“Have you now?” Harry plays along leaning over the side of the piano.

“Yep. This goes out to my little curly cue. Love ya babe,” Louis says throwing a kiss in the air, and Harry does a dramatic dive to the side to catch it, before holding it close to him. 

After one last wink Louis lets his fingers fall into a stuttering and, admittedly, off key rendition of We Wish You a Merry Christmas, but Harry gives a thunderous applause at the end regardless of the missed notes and horrible quality. 

“Thank you, oh please! Hold your applause,” Louis kids, standing to position his arms around his friend. 

“You sir are a talent,” Harry whispers to him. 

“Well then where are my flowers?” Louis asks looking around expectantly. “What kind of courtship do you think this is?”

“My apologies,” Harry says lifting his empty hands as if he too cannot believe his faus pas. “Let me make it up to you,” he says raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Older Louis is off to the side, covering his eyes with one hand and turning an impressive shade of pink. 

“Sorry you have to see this,” he tells Niall. 

“Me too,” he agrees. “I don’t think the two of you could get any cheesier.”

But the two lovebirds in front of them don’t seem to care. Harry has a hand resting on Louis’s cheek and there’s a smirk on his face as he licks his lips. Louis’ eyes are trained there as if they hold all the answers to the universe and as he closes his eyes, he leans in and gives Harry-- the world’s absolute sloppiest kiss. 

“Ugh, Louis!” Harry yelps through his laughter and he looks more like he’s being attacked by his neighbor’s hyper active puppy, rather than kissing his bestfriend. Louis has an iron grip on his neck as his tongue roves over the younger boy’s mouth and the two stumble back as he presses one last firm touch to Harry’s lips. 

When they pull apart, Louis unceremoniously whips his mouth with the back of his hand, assessing Harry with a simple, “You’re lips are chapped,” before he trots off to the kitchen with the others. 

“How on earth would I live without you Louis?” Harry calls after him.

“Beats me how you ever did, to be honest!” Louis shouts back from the kitchen. 

Louis has to laugh; he’s happy to know he’s always been hilarious. “They think I’m funny,” he boasts to Niall who’s still sat beside him, but he looks distracted, almost like he’s waiting for something to happen. 

The room around them shifts then, and suddenly everyone is at the door. Niall was the first to leave that week because he had the furthest to travel. They’re all saying their goodbyes to him now. 

“Alright mate, give us a ring when you get in, yeah?” Louis’s younger self says to the Irish boy. 

“Yeah ‘course,” Niall says back laughing. “Can’t get rid of you lot now, yeah.” The two end up in an impossibly tight embrace that the other boys can’t help but join in on after a few prolonged seconds. 

Louis watches the scene from a few feet away and he tries to remember the last time he even talked to actual Niall, let alone hugged him like that. He can’t recall either.

The rest of the boys leave until it’s just Harry, Louis and their families left. The two haven’t left each other’s sides all day. It’s peculiar to watch, like there’s some invisible chain that prevents them from moving more than a few feet from each other. Louis thinks it’s strange to see himself so connected with someone again. He rarely ever lets anyone that close anymore.

“C’mon, we’re going for a walk,” Louis tells the boy after a while. They put on their gear and yell out to the swarm of girls that they’ll be back in an hour. Walking down the path and following the two, Louis sees them bump shoulders, making a game of the simple gesture. The walk is mostly silent until they get to a park down the road and make their way to a nearby bench. 

“What are you thinking, Harry?” Louis prompts him.

“What do you think’s going to happen to us? Like, what if we never see the boys again?”

“Of course we’ll see them again.” Louis goes to ruffle his friend’s hair, but he leaves his hand there to card through his curls afterwards. “They’re our best friends; we’ll see each other.”

“Yeah but,” Harry says moving closer, giving Louis better access, “Niall lives in like fucking Ireland”

“We’ll find a way. There’s always summer, and New Year’s, and impromptu road trips. I think if you want to keep in touch, you just do it.”

There’s no words exchanged for a while, but it’s clear the conversation isn’t over. 

“What about us then?” Harry whispers like he’s afraid of the answer. Both Louis’s knew the question was coming.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” young Louis replies simply. “Gonna be pretty hard to miss me when we’re living in the same flat, don’t you think?” Harry hides his smile into Louis’ neck and it’s like it’s his favorite place to be. 

“So that plan is still on then?” He approaches the subject slowly.

“Obviously.” Louis reaches down to grab the chin stuck to his collarbone. He pulls at it until he can see the greens of Harry’s eyes. “What are you saying you don’t want to live with me anymore?” he jokes. “Because I will be very offended; I’ve already packed.”

Harry’s showing all his teeth when he smiles up at him. “So are you, like, my boyfriend then? Officially? I can’t very well shack up with you without some type of commitment.” 

He says it with humor, but Louis can see there’s actually worry in his eyes. They’ve never actually sat down and labeled what all of this was. 

The competition was far too stressful to add the pressures of the “’What are we?” conversation. Especially when the wrong answer could lead to a stop in the touches. And the cuddling. And the stolen kisses. It just wasn’t a price they were willing to wager at the time. But now…

“Yeah.” Louis smiles. “I’m your boyfriend.” He gets a tighter hold on Harry’s curls, making his intent clear. 

“You’re not going to slobber on me this time are you?” Harry asks as their lips brush in the cool air.

“Not this time,” Louis says through a grin. There’s a dizzying moment where they just hover and let the anticipation build. Louis’s breath is hot on Harry’s lips and Harry lets his eyes rake over his boyfriend’s features. They both feel the need to make this one special—their first kiss as an official couple and all. 

When their lips finally touch, Louis can hear Harry’s breath catch. His eyes flutter to a close as Louis presses his mouth more firmly to his. He feels Louis’s tongue swipe at his bottom lip, but he knows they won’t take it further than that. It’s a sweet kiss, simple and speaking volumes. When they part, their heads are still spinning and Harry’s grin is impossibly large. 

“We’re gonna be alright,” he announces.

“We’re gonna be alright,” Louis repeats, and in truth, they were for a while.

Louis’s standing a few feet away from the couple and his cheeks are flushed from the scene in front of him. “How much of this Christmas are we going to see, exactly?” he asks his ghostly friend. 

“As much as it takes to get the point across.”

“Ok I get it; so can we go now,” Louis asks, hopeful.

Ghostly Niall sizes him up. “Nah mate,” he chuckles, “You’re not ready to go yet.”

Their surrounding move again and they’re back in the bungalow. “It’s the twenty third,” Niall clarifies as he goes to lounge on one of the couches.

Louis thinks he might actually lose his mind if he doesn’t get out of here. His family is still visiting Harry’s at the bungalow after very convincing pleas from the two boys and Lottie who has grown very invested in her makeshift sisterhood with the older Gemma. 

Jay’s not too keen to get them home as it’s the first Christmas since the divorce and she knows everyone will feel weird without Mark there. Anne just loves the company. So it was decided. The Tomlinson clan would stay until midday Christmas Eve, and honestly, no one was complaining of the new arrangement, especially not Harry and Louis.

Harry’s been fidgeting all day, and as Louis looks at the two of them now, he doesn’t know how he didn’t see it coming that day. It’s getting late and they’re all hunkered down under blankets with cocoa watching _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_. It’s cozy and calm and Louis can’t stop himself from stealing a kiss from Harry every few minutes. He peppers his hair and his cheeks and his nose until Gemma finally nudges them with her toes because honestly, this isn’t the back row at a cheap movie. There are kids here! But she’s smiling all the same so the boys don’t take her too seriously. 

When it’s over, they kiss all the girls goodnight and Harry drags Louis off to the last door on the left hall.

All the color has drained from Older Louis’s face. He looks to Niall for help, but he offers nothing more than commentary of the movie they just watched, blatantly ignoring Louis’s terror. 

“Do I have too?” Louis pleads, because come on. Yesterday he couldn’t even handle a phone call from Harry and now he’s meant to sit through _this_. Give the guy a break, Universe. 

Niall doesn’t answer so he knows it’s a non negotiable deal. He treks down the hall and sits outside the door. He won’t go in, he tells himself. Doesn’t need to. He can see it without having to watch. That night will forever be engraved in his brain.

***********

On the other side of the door, a young Louis and Harry ready themselves for bed. Or at least that’s what Louis thinks they’re doing. “I’m really glad we got to spend Christmas together, Haz. Thanks for inviting me.” He walks up behind his boyfriend and encircles him with his arms, keeping a tight grip to his waist. His chin rests on Harry’s shoulder as he presses a sweet kiss behind his ear. 

“Of course babe,” Harry answers. He turns in their embrace and gets his own hold on Louis’s waist. “I want to spend every Christmas with you.”

“Deal,” Louis agrees easily. And their lips mold together like it’s all they’d ever need, and in that moment, they probably think it is. Harry breaks the kiss before it can get too heated and opts to sit in the middle of the bed instead. Louis looks at him curiously, but he’s always enjoyed a game of cat and mouse so he plays along, following the curly haired boy’s lead. 

“So your birthday’s in a couple of hours,” Harry trails.

“Yeah..” Louis prompts. “Excited to have a hot, older boyfriend are you?”

“Definitely,” Harry says with a laugh. “Tell me, what’s the best birthday present you ever got?”

Louis scrunches his brow. “Uh, I dunno, they all just blur in with Christmas really. I guess maybe when I was ten and I got this really cool bike. Stan was so jealous,” he recalls fondly. 

“Hmm, a bike. Gonna be hard for me to top that one,” Harry says snuggling closer. 

“Probably. But there’s nothing wrong with second place, Harry. It’s honorable, really,” Louis teases and in seconds Harry’s lips are on him again. 

It’s much more heated than their past few kisses, but not as desperate as some of their stolen moments during the competition. The added factor of a bed is making Louis’s head a little fuzzy and he tries to contain himself, worried about pushing Harry too far. However, if he’d been paying attention he would have noticed Harry doing more work to rev him up than to push him off. 

His tongue is roving in Louis’s mouth, putting up a battle the way he’d learned very early on will make Louis crumble. He pushes his blue eyed catch back then, bringing his thigh up to his waist and grinding down between them. Louis moans at the pressure and his naivety has him thinking that Harry just wants to tug off before bed. 

It’s nothing they haven’t done before, so he’s all for it, bringing his hands up to cradle the back of the boy’s head, curls tickling his fingers. Harry’s panting already, which Louis finds weird, but he just goes with it as the boy trails his lips down the column of his neck letting his tongue play with the veins there. 

“Louis,” Harry calls quietly.

“Hmm,” Louis answers and his eyes are rolling at the way Harry’s breath feels on his skin.

“What do you think about going further tonight,” kisses still persistent. He goes to pull Louis shirt off and lets his lips graze over his collarbones as he waits for response. Louis hesitates, confused because there’s not much they haven’t done already and Harry can’t possibly be talking about…

“Want you.” Harry breaths into his ear, unashamed. “I’d let you fuck me.” He smirks when he feels Louis get harder beneath him and looks up at him, eyes hopeful.

Louis’s one hundred percent sure he’s not breathing anymore, and he’s finding it really hard to contain himself. Harry can’t know what he’s offering right now so he tells him as such. 

Harry sits up on his knees, straddling the boy beneath him, eyes still seductive. “We’ve talked about it,” he says. “And I want you to have this. It’s your birthday,” he whispers into Louis’s ear. “And it’s Christmas.”

“It’s Christmas, so you want me to deflower you?” Louis asks incredulously. “Harry what the hell kind of traditions does your family have because at my house we just wear matching socks.”

Harry barks a laugh at that which he tries to muffle into Louis’ shoulder. “You’re an idiot,” he laughs.

Louis’s still smiling as well. “I just don’t want you to think you have to do this. I’m not going anywhere you know. And if I do, I’m taking you with me.” His fingers play at Harry’s hip as he tries to calm his heartbeat.

“I know,” Harry says rising to looking into Louis’s eyes again. “But I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. I get it; we have all the time in the world, and don’t get me wrong, I still plan on breaking in our new flat. But I want it now.” He lets his nose graze over Louis’s before giving it a nudge. “Please,” he says quietly. 

And Louis heaves because he knows he can’t resist Harry if he were actually to start begging. “Fine,” he caves. “But if you change your mind that’s fine too, okay?” Harry nods, eager, but Louis stops him before he can move away. “Promise me you say something if you don’t like it.”

“I’ll love it.” Harry deflects.

“Promise.” Louis orders more sternly.

Harry rolls his eyes. “I promise. If you promise to loosen the fuck up first. Here, we’ll work our way up to it.” Harry removes his shirt before pressing them back into the mattress with their chests flush against each other. He lets his hips roll into Louis’s as he sucks an impressive bruise just under his collarbone. Louis’s heart is racing and all he can think is lips lips lips as Harry moves lower. 

He peppers a trail down his chest and his tongue does wonders at he goes, until finally he hovers over the waistband of Louis’s pajama pants. The son of a bitch has a smirk on his face as he pulls Louis free of all his remaining clothing. His cock stands tall and hard, a product of his teen years and a pretty boy begging to be with him. Louis doesn’t have to touch Harry to know he’s hard as a rock as well. 

He has one hand still trailing down his chest and it feels like it’s leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He feels breath ghost over him and lets his head fall back into the sheets as he feels Harry’s tongue lap as his tip. He sucks lightly, teasing before licking one long strip from his base to his head. 

Louis absolutely hates him. 

“Harry,” he whines done with the games. 

“You know what I want,” Harry says letting his hand work at the base, but offering no other stimulation whatsoever. “Do it,” he commands. 

And Louis’ hand is in a vice tight grip at the back of his head pulling him down roughly. He doesn’t miss the smile that graces Harry’s face as he swallows him down. 

Harry is good at this. Like Louis knows he gives a decent blowjob himself if Harry’s praise is anything to go by, but Harry is on a completely different level. He takes Louis in easily until his cock strikes the back of his throat and he holds him there, letting his heat engulf him. Louis’ head is swimming. He pulls off just enough to regain his breath and lets his hand begin strokes at Louis’ base. 

His tongue continues to swirl around Louis’s tip and Louis makes a point to scratch his scalp with his blunt fingernails. Harry groans around him, sending Louis’s stomach into a fit of somersaults. 

“Yeah, Harry,” Louis chants his praise. The boy in question peeks up at him through his eyelashes and there’s an insufferable glint in his eyes, and Louis can tell he’s getting cocky so he pushes him back down and lets himself have a few selfish thrusts into his throat which Harry only takes in stride. 

He feels one of Harry’s hands move from its place on his hip and attempt to snake past his dick, but Louis catches the hand before he can get to his balls. 

“No, don’t wanna come like that,” Louis explains.

Harry pulls off him with a pop and looks into his eyes, dazed. “Who said you were only going to come once tonight?” he rasps and yeah, that does a great job of knocking the breath right out of Louis. He lets Harry regain control and he’s spilling into his boyfriend’s mouth in seconds. 

Harry flops back down next to Louis on their shared bed and the room is silent except for their gasps for air. Louis reaches his arm out blindly until he finds Harry’s face and pulls him close. He licks inside his mouth accepting the bitter taste before he lets go and smiles dumbly at the curly haired boy. 

“You’re good at that,” he states. Harry just chuckles and moves closer to the warmth of Louis’s body; they stay quiet for a few moments before Louis speaks again. “So I hear you want me to fuck you.”

“Yes, please,” Harry says grinning and Louis finds it hilarious how polite he’s being about it. 

Before Louis can make another comment he’s digging into his bedside drawer and he pulls out a square packet and a small tube throwing them on the bed. Louis stares at them while Harry shucks off his pants. 

“Are you sure you want to be the one?” Louis asks feeling a little guilty. “Cause I could if you needed me to—“ He’s cut off by firm lips on top of his and a warm hand on the back of his neck. Harry’s mouth moves to his ear before he whispers, “I’ve been getting ready for you.” He moves back so he can see Louis’s face, make sure he understands. 

Louis feels gobsmaked. “Y-you’ve been…” he can’t even finish the sentence, the image too much for him. He brings his bottom lip between his teeth thinking of Harry like that—readying himself for Louis. 

Their foreheads are resting together, Harry still gripping him at the base of his neck. “Can’t have all my hard work go to waste now can we?”

No, Louis thinks, they definitely cannot, as he tugs Harry fully down onto the comfort of the bed.

*********

Outside the door, Older Louis is shaking and it has nothing to do with arousal. He feels like he’s lungs are being pressed too tight, and no matter what he does he can’t get enough air. His skin feels like it’s on fire, every lingering touch from that day still taking him over, his memory flooded. The way Harry had called his name, the caresses that had him biting into the boy’s skin, the marks that scarred his back, keeping thoughts of the night fresh for days. He can’t take it. 

Before he can think about what he’s doing he’s on his feet, running down the hallway and out the front door. Anything is better than just sitting there.

“Louis?” he hears a concerned Irish voice behind him.

“You!” Louis screams turning on him. “What the hell, man. Why did you bring me here?” 

Niall has the decency to look taken aback. “I don’t control where we go, I just take you. Obviously there’s something you needed to see here.”

“You think I wanted to see this? You think I want to spend my damn birthday torturing myself like this?”

“It’ll all make sense with a little time; yo—“

“No, fuck that. Tell me now. What fucking good was any of this day because sorry, I’m just not seeing it.”

Ghosty looks irritated, but Louis stands his ground. 

“You’re impatient,” he says. “But fine. What’s the difference between you now and how you were with the doll house.”

Louis looks at him like he’s crazy.

“Just think about it,” Niall insists. 

Louis waits for some kind of divine intervention before he finally shouts, “Nothing!”

“C’mon man, nothing?” Niall says raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing important. I worked hard then; I work hard now. I get off my arse and I work and look, it pays off,” Louis says irritated. 

“Yeah, but what are you even working for anymore?” Niall says trying to remain calm. “When you got that doll house you were trying to make people happy. Do you think you’re doing that now?”

“I’m trying to run a business! I don’t have time to go around buying fucking doll houses anymore!” Louis is shrieking his words at this point but he doesn’t care. His skin is tingling at the thought of gentle caresses and sweet whimpers in his ear. 

“How’s all that not caring working out for you Louis? You know what I’ve seen today? A guys surrounded by people who love him, people he cares for. Right now all I see is someone who’s pushed them all away.”

Louis is trying to steady himself as he replies. “So, what? You brought me here so I could see that I was once happy? I know that! What I don’t understand is how you don’t see this as cruel.”

Ghost Niall is shaking his head. “You’re missing everything. You can still be happy, Louis. It’s not too late for you.” His voice is gentler now and he claps a comforting hand on Louis’s shoulder. “Just ride it out, you’ll see. We can be done here, but we got another Christmas on the list.” There’s pity in his eyes.

“2015,” Louis guesses with a whisper. 

Niall gives him a sad smile and extends his hand. Louis doesn’t particularly like that Christmas either but he figures anything is better than staying here. In the bungalow, unbeknownst to the people around them, a young Louis is kneading his fingers at the knap of Harry’s hair as he whispers iloveyou for the first time and Harry silently vows to keep Louis every Christmas he can. 

The next morning they’ll put on silly Christmas hats and exchange presents over breakfast. Louis will squeeze Harry extra tight to his side as they pose for a picture, and Louis will keep it to remind him of the best Christmas he’s ever had.

**********

Louis remembers Christmas 2015 well. Mainly because it sucked. There was no way around the matter; it was just a really bad time for him. There had been a great deal of tension in the band leading up to the day. Arguments about what direction they were headed. Arguments about how to conduct themselves in public. After five years together, it seemed the band would argue about just about anything. 

Harry and Louis had broken up shortly after being signed because “nothing ruins a band faster than a relationship.” Though reluctant, history was against them. In the end, they decided they were both willing to take one for the team because they were young and naïve and being offered a lucrative record deal, and there were three other boys’ lives that counted on their decision. 

_You don’t need to be my boyfriend for me to love you_ Louis remembers saying. And it worked for a while. They were still best friends, impossibly close. They’d tried their hand at almost everything from secret relationships, to dating other people, to silent hookups, but regardless of where or what they were to each other, every Christmas they’d find their way back like magnets who finally found each other’s field. 

This year though, Louis didn’t know if they’d pull it off. He was so at odd with everyone, Harry included. There were just so many little things that seemed to make him tick these days. This particular night Older Louis finds himself sitting on the kitchen counter of his old flat as he and the boys come barging through the door. Louis’s lip is busted; Zayn has a bruise forming around his eye. 

“Dammit man, you can’t keep doing that. I’m not going to keep pulling your arse out of fights every other night” Zayn is absolutely seething. Niall looks more than a little annoyed and he stalks off not wanting to be around for another argument. Liam goes straight to the kitchen in search of something for his bandmates’ faces, clearly disappointed in everyone. Harry has a tight grip on Louis’s waist and his brow is worried as he helps his friend stagger over to the couch. 

“That guy had it coming,” Louis says, cold. 

“So you just disregard the fact that he was twice your size with two massive friends?” Zayn retorts.

“You didn’t have to get into it if this is the fuss you make.”

“They would have ended you without me!” Zayn bellows.

“You know what, if it had been you, I would have had your back and I wouldn’t be all over you about it after!” Louis yells right back.

Zayn’s face is incredulous as Liam calls him to ice his face. Louis stubbornly crosses his arms to his chest and stares off to nowhere in particular, loathing everything. 

Harry is standing over him a towel in his hand. “Let me help you clean that,” hey says gently. And as pissed as Louis is, it’s Harry, so he lets him do as he pleases. Zayn is still shouting in the kitchen and Harry just looks worn and tired of everything. When he’s done as much as he can he gives Louis a small smile, albeit sad, and they sit together, lost for words. 

“But it’s all the time, man!” Zayn is still yelling. “A Twitter fight one day, and a fucking Bar room brawl the next, who the fuck does he think he is? The press is going to have a field day with this. No wonder we can’t find the right niche anymore, no one can’t see the music past Louis’s big head,”

“I’m getting so tired of your shit, Malik.” he shouts back, turning on him. 

“What was that?” Zayn says peeking back into the living room. His face looks like he’s ready for a kill.

“Louis,” Harry chastises. “Stop.”

“His ‘shit’ saved your arse tonight, mate.” It’s Niall that speaks up this time. 

“Oh will you all let it go,” Louis says exasperated. “I would have been fine, alone.”

The boys scoff at him and Louis starts to see red. He knows he’s passed the point of making sense hours ago, but he just keeps going. “In fact,” he continues “I’m sure I would have been fine alone. I think I’d be better alone with a lot of things,” he says. 

The room falls silent at that, the air thick with the suggestion no one’s bothered to voice yet. But the fact is four albums in five years has started to catch up with them. The momentum is lagging; they can all feel it. Everyone always told them they had a timestamp—the boybanders’ curse they called it.

“What are you saying, Lou?” Liam hedges, the only brave one. 

He looks at them all with defiance in his eyes. “I’m saying I’m done.” Each word comes out calmly. “Get out.” And with that, he turns on his heel and charges to his room. 

Older Louis stays back to watch the scene in the living room. The one he missed out on. 

“Fucking prick,” Zayn says first.

“He doesn’t mean it,” Harry whispers. 

“Well you know what, if he doesn’t, I do. I’m not working with him anymore.” His hands are raised in surrender as he backs towards the door. “Merry Christmas, Arsehole!” he yells as he slams the door behind him. 

The remaining three boys look a variety of shocked and sick and resigned. Niall is the first to shrug and head towards the door. 

“Sorry mate, but someone’s got to get Zayn home, seeing as he only has one proper eye and whatnot.” 

Liam gives Harry’s shoulder one last squeeze and he’s right behind Niall. 

Harry sits for a moment dumbfounded and he looks around the room like he can’t believe what just happened. He rests his elbows on his knees and brings his hands up to his hair. “Fuck,” he whispers, beyond himself. Resigned and defeated, he gets up and treks towards Louis’s room. He pauses at the doorway. 

“I don’t want to hear it,” Louis says, sensing him there. He starts to go off on his latest rant of the night as Harry kicks his shoes off. 

“Shut up,” he tells the broken boy, climbing into the bed beside him. He presses up close and tucks his head away into the other boy’s neck. Though Louis is obviously confused, he doesn’t mention anything else. “Let’s just go to sleep,” Harry says.

Louis is in the doorway next to his ghostly friend looking sadly upon the scene. “What an idiot,” he says to himself. 

To be fair, he had always known the fights that night were petty, but seeing them laid out in front of him like this, he’s just embarrassed. He hangs his head in shame wishing the universe would let him take it back instead of just letting him rewatch it all. 

“Are we done here?” he asks, downtrodden.

“Yeah,” Niall says sympathetic. “I think I’ve shown you enough.”

And with that, they’re gone.

*********

Back at the Christmas they’ve just left, Louis is having a hard time sleeping.

As Louis looks at the boy beneath him he gets and overwhelming sense of grief. The boy’s eyes look pained even in his sleep, and Louis feels so much self loathing because he knows he made it that way. 

It’s then that he decides Harry would be better off without him keeping his hold. He imagines a future where Harry can be happy again and he knows he can’t give that to him. Not the way he is now, maybe not ever.

Because the boy in his arms is so sweet and wonderful, and Louis wants to give him the world, but the only world he has to offer up is destitute and malicious and it will tear you apart if you’re not careful. Harry doesn’t deserve that. None of the boys do, Louis thinks, and it weighs on him heavier than anything he’s ever felt.

  

**Part Three**

Louis feels as if his head is in a rush when he returns home. His thoughts are everywhere as he thinks of all he’s just witnessed, and he can’t fix them enough to form coherent words.

“Afraid it’s about time for me to leave,” Niall says. “It’s been a pleasure escorting you, mate,” he says clapping Louis on the back, before turning away.

“Wait,” Louis calls to him. “What do I do now?” He looks around in confusion.

“Just wait,” Niall says, “He should be here soon,” and before Louis can asks anymore questions, he’s gone, leaving Louis to wonder if he was ever truly there in the first place. He sat on the edge of his bed letting his mind drift; he didn’t have to wait for long.

“So they tell me you’re a stubborn one,” he hears a familiar voice say. You would think he’d be used to the surprises at this point in the day, but turning around and seeing a twenty six year old Zayn Malik next to his bedroom window is just not something he expected to witness today. 

“Uh,” Louis stalls, the words caught in his throat and eyes bulging. 

“I’m the Ghost of Christmas Present,” he recites looking annoyed that he has to introduce himself as such. The man—ghost, whatever-- at his window is dressed casually enough, his hair down and floppy, leather jacket neat upon his shoulders. He studies Louis idly as he pulls a cigarette and lighter from his back pocket. That pulls Louis out of his stupor. 

“Can ghosts even smoke?” he asks perplexed. 

Zayn rolls his eyes as he lights up. “Spend one morning with a ghost and now you know everything there is to know, huh?” He takes a long drag before he puffs his smoke into Louis’s general direction. Louis finds him to be kind of a jackass; he likes it. “Come along, Scrooge, we’re on a time limit here,” He says getting up. 

Louis makes his way closer to his new ghostly friend. “It’s Louis, actually,” he says in defense.

“I’m sure it is,” Zayn says without any real apology. He’s grabbing onto Louis’s shoulder and taking them away before Louis can argue about the subject any longer. 

If he were completely honest with himself, Louis would admit he was nervous. Visiting the past had been one thing: he’d lived that. He knew everything that happened, and even if he wasn’t proud of all those moments there was nothing that would catch him off guard. This, however, was a completely different story. Because there had to have been a reason he was getting these visits, right? He highly doubted the universe would drop multiple ghosts on his doorstep with no purpose. These things don’t just happen. 

Though he doesn’t have time to contemplate more before they depart from his room.

************

There’s snow starting to fall at their destination. Little flurries of snow swirl aimlessly through the sky, distracting Louis in his disoriented state. 

“LEGEND Recording Company,” Zayn announces once they’ve settled. Breaking from his reverie Louis realizes the obviousness of their location. He looks up at the grand building in front of him and he can pick out the floors designated for his business with ease. 

“What time is it?” Louis asks. 

“Early, about the time everyone’s normally arriving to work,” Zayn replies and wow does the street look eerie without its normal morning hustle and bustle. “Most of the other businesses are already closed for the holiday,” Zayn says answering the question Louis hadn’t asked. Looking back at the building in which his company resides he sees that, yes, his floors seem to be the only ones with obvious life on them. 

“Right,” he says sheepishly just as he sees Sandra escorting someone out of the door. Zayn gestures in her direction, and Louis knows he is meant to follow. 

They stand at the curb as Louis nears them and he catches the tail end of their conversation. “Wilson, seriously, go home. I’ll cover for you,don’t worry.”

“But Tomlinson,” he starts to argue.

“He won’t find out. And any way he’s a lot more understanding than he’ll let you believe,” she defends. “He’s just been having an off one.”

Louis has to stop and appreciate her. Because there are a lot of people in his life: employees that really only fear him, random hook ups that only care about what he can give them, estranged family members who feel the need to send him a cheap Hallmark this time every year because it’s polite and they’ve been taught they have to. But he has so few people willing to be genuine with him, so few people who interact with him and not his image. Sandra’s one of the only one’s he can think of who can see past all the bullshit. Other than maybe Harry, and well, a lot of good that’s done the both of them. He thinks maybe his mom and his sisters fit the bill as well, but hell, he can’t even buck up the courtesy to visit them more time than not. He tries not to think about it often. No need to sit around wallowing when he’s got important business to tend to. He convinces himself he’s happy, and he’s been doing a pretty good job of it, thank you very much. He didn’t ask anyone’s opinion anyway.

Wilson looks defeated either way so he shrugs his shoulders and gives Sandra a hug that pulls strangely at Louis’s heart before making his way down mostly empty streets.

“Lemme guess,” he says distracting himself, as he turns to Zayn. 

Zayn’s already looking at him. Studying might be more appropriate. These ghost types are strange. 

“We’re gonna follow Wilson next?” Louis continues. 

Zayn smiles and pats Louis’s cheek a bit harder than he thinks completely necessary. “You may be stubborn but you catch on fast enough, Scroogie.”

Louis ignores winningly ignores him and latches onto his arm as the scene in front of them dissolves away.

**********

Louis finds himself in the crowed living room of what he expects to be Wilson's home. There's all array of people around, children and adults, and off in the corner there's a machine that looks more fitting for a hospital than a home. 

Louis looks quizzically at Zayn who merely nods in the direction of the kitchen and Louis has just enough time to notice Wilson coming into the room with a little girl in his hands. She can't be more than about six and she's got frosting on her nose as everyone coos around her and she giggles into Wilson's beard. Louis notices she has a few tubes stuck all over on her hand and one snaking up her butterfly top. 

"Heart problems," Zayn explains. "Doctors say it doesn't look good. Keep telling them the best thing is to just surround her with family at this point." 

Louis's heart sinks as he watches Wilson place her gingerly on the couch and hand her a cookie that seems to be the perpetrator of the frosting. "Eat up, sugarplum," he's saying. "We'll put on a movie."

"Daddy, are you leaving for work?" the little girl calls out when Wilson stands to go towards the television. His smile gets a little tighter, but he keeps his face trained when he answers her. "Not today, darling."

Downtrodden, Louis looks over to Zayn. "I didn't know," he murmurs mostly to himself.

"You didn't make an effort to know either though," is all he gets in return.

_“What's the difference between you now and the you that bought that doll house?”_ Louis hears echoing in his head. Some of the puzzle pieces are starting to click into place. 

"Well okay, what can we do then?" Louis asks searching Zayn's eyes, because clearly there's an obvious answer he's missing. 

"Here?" Zayn questions, pointing at the scene in front of him. "Nothing really. She's sick, can't help that. We're just here to see how far your actions reflect." 

Louis bites his lip as he watches Wilson put on a tape of _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_. He's talking to who Louis assumes to be his wife in hushed whispers. 

"Is your boss gonna be okay with this?" she's asking.

"I think it'll be fine," he answers and it's evident he's trying to convince himself just as much as he is her. "He hasn't always been this bad, you know. Sandy says she thinks he's just having an off year."

Louis snorts at that. If only things were that simple. 

He takes in the room around him. There's so much love here. He'd expect it to be dreary and dark, but instead he finds laughter and joy of some of the rarest variety he's ever seen. He thinks he could kick himself for the rest of his life for trying to keep Wilson away from all of this.

So wrapped up in his thoughts, he startles when he feels a touch on his shoulder. 

"We should be going," Zayn says and his face reads like he's looking at some clock Louis can't see.

"Already?" Louis asks perplexed, but Zayn is nodding.

"Yeah, we don't want to pry. And you still have other visits to check off."

Louis heaves out a giant breath sends a gentle smile to the little girl with the frosting cookie. "Stay strong, little love," he whispers and with that they're gone.

**********

They're next destination proves disorienting for Louis because the first thing he spots is Zayn moving down the street. Louis know it must be his real Zayn because his hair's in a beanie and he's sans leather jacket like his ghost companion. He's hunched over and talking into his phone as he makes his way up to Liam's front steps. 

"Louis, you've been avoiding my calls for three days now, and I don't like it," he barks into his mobile as he passes Louis unbeknownst. "I'm the only one who can do that," he continues, "now call me back already, you prick. And happy birthday," he tacks on to the end for good measure. 

Louis can help the chuckle that bubbles out of him as he follows Zayn into Liam's front door.

"Leeem," he calls out shaking a few flakes of snow from his fringe and warming his hands in the entryway. 

"In here," Liam calls back and Louis and both Zayns follow his voice into a small dining room that barely ever gets used. Liam has paperwork scattered about him and a pencil stuck in the center of his hair. 

"Liam, it's Christmas!" Zayn chastises as soon as he walks into the room. "Why are you working?" 

Liam laughs as he gets up to catch Zayn in a hug. "Just finishing a few things before the festivities start, don't bite my head off."

Louis takes the opportunity to look at everything Liam has spread out in front of him. Most of the papers look identical to those he'd been slaving over himself just yesterday.

"You know, if you and Louis would stop being idiots, you could have gotten all this work done in half the time and you could both stop being such Grinches."

Louis's really getting tired of the name calling. He is not a classic Christmas antagonist, by any name and he would appreciate it if people would stop treating him as so, thanks. 

"Have you talked to him today?" Zayn carries on. 

Liam blushes. 

"Liam!" Zayn groans. 

"It's still early," Liam defends meagerly.

"It's his birthday, you jerk!"

"He's probably not even awake."

"Louis hasn't slept in since he got that giant stick up his butt almost a year ago and you know it."

Louis openly scoffs at that. "I do not have a stick up my butt," he says defensively to the room at large. Zayn and Liam can't hear him though, so he turns to his ghost friend and repeats, "I do not have a stick up my butt!"

Ghost Zayn looks unimpressed before he peers at Louis's backside, reaches out a finger to poke at his bum making Louis jump away from him. 

"Eh," Ghosty offers in reply. 

"Rude," Louis says again to no one in particular, mostly because it could apply to anyone in the place. 

He's sulking as Zayn and Liam peer over the paperwork, pointing out trends and dates that need to be marked down and it's all rather boring until there's a knock at the door followed by a loud greeting that can only belong to Niall.

"Hello in here!" he greets walking through the door and sauntering into the kitchen. Louis finds himself subconsciously smiling because that's just the effect Niall has on people, and Louis just feels happy. Until Harry trails in behind him. Then he kind of feels like he's been punched in the gut.

"Look what I found on the side of the road," Niall gives as way of introduction as Zayn and Liam go over to greet Harry all smiles and teases of "Oh, are we important enough to deserve a stop on your break from New York, then?"

Harry smiles into it, dimples and all, always oddly open for teasing as long as it means he's given attention. 

They all make their way to the table as Liam clears his work to the side Niall and Harry chatting as Zayn scrolls through his phone.

"Has anyone talked to Louis?" he asks after they've all settled and he's starting to sound exasperated. 

"I phoned him this morning," pipes Niall, "didn't answer though."

Liam repeats his earlier sentiment of "I'll call later, which is starting to rub Louis completely the wrong way with how bullshit it is."

And then all eyes fall on Harry who is doing a horrible job feigning nonchalance and he twiddles his thumbs. 

"Harry," Zayn calls.

"Um," he starts, clears his throat. "I haven't talked to him since last night," he says.

The room falls silent. Louis feels his cheeks heat up from how awkward it's suddenly gotten and he can't even be seen. He can't imagine how it must feel for everyone else. 

"This should be good," Ghost Zayn mutters and Louis spares a second to glare at him.

"You didn't," actual Zayn is the first to pipe up, though he goes unanswered by Harry. It seems though, that that just won't do for him, so he knocks elbows with Harry and repeats himself. _"You didn't._ "

"I mean, define 'didn't,'" Harry says and the entire room groans.

"Oh c'mon, what?"

"Don't play dumb, Harry," Liam speaks this time.

"I mean, we didn't like, do anything."

"Okay now you define 'anything,'" pipes Niall. "Because last time whatever you did seriously fucked him up."

Louis is shocked and appalled and thinking of burning all their Christmas presents. 

"Did you at least tell him about the engagement?" Liam asks.

Harry bends his head as he fiddles with his hair. "Um, may not have gotten to that part."

Zayn's phone drops from his hand and Louis feels lightheaded being forced to sit here. Is that what Harry was meant to do last night? Rave about his engagement? Louis thinks he might be sick.

"You didn't tell him you weren't engaged?" Zayn's voice rings through the room like it's made of steel.

What.

Wait. What. 

Louis looks confusedly around the room, from Zayn to Harry and back. He looks to Niall then back to Harry then Liam then Harry again. No one's speaking, but dammit Louis needs them to because what.

He bats his hand at Ghost Zayn searching for answers. "What? What'd they say?" he asks frantically.

"I meant to--" Harry says quietly. 

"Oh my god, Harry!" someone groans and Louis watches as three hands go to swat at Harry's head along with cries of "I can't believe you" and "How could you not tell him"

"I didn't want to jump to conclusions that he believed that shit anyway. And I dunno," he trails, "It's Christmas, we uaully have a one track mind this time of year."

Louis's head is spinning. He notices his hands are shaking and he doesn't think he can do anything to stop them because Harry's not engaged and Louis can breath again and Harry's not engaged and birds are singing and Harry's not engaged and he came to tell Louis so however unsuccessfully and Harry's not engaged, not engaged,not engaged. 

"What makes you think he wouldn't believe it though?" Liam asks, "You haven't really been keeping us in the loop as of late. You didn't even tell us you were moving to New York until your bag was already packed."

Even me, Louis thinks. You didn't even tell me.

Harry shakes his head in return, and Louis thinks of all the adds he'd seen Harry's face on in the past year, the fresh celebrity face of some fancy fashion line. The kind that cells a million different coats a season and t-shirts that no one in the real world actually wears. Each time he'd seen one of the adds in a magazine and the occasional tv spread, it'd felt like a punch in the gut. Because Harry had chosen that over him and he had barely even bothered to tell him this was the choice he was making. 

"I just figured he'd know there couldn't be anyone else," Harry explains and Louis doesn't think there's anyone in the world who could understand that but him as the words resonate in his bones. 

"Yeah, but are you gonna Cinderella him again?" Zayn inquires brow scrunched.

Both Louis and Harry stare at him in confusion. Harry gets fetishy sometime but Louis would remember play with glass slippers.

"You know," Zayn continues pulling Louis out of his thoughts. "The whole romance is alive until the clock strikes midnight. Midnight in your case being the 26th. Or New Year's. Or however long it takes for the Christmas magic to wear off."

Harry stares at him.

Sighing Zayn adds, "It just, you two always make a big deal about finding each other every Christmas, and that's great! But for the past few years it's just been fairytales followed by one disaster after another."

Zayn is really killing the vibe today. Louis tells his Ghost counterpart as much because honestly he was just so giddy with the news of Harry's not engagement and now...

"I guess we have to work on that," Harry concedes offering little else as he toys with the wood working of Liam's dining table.

Louis’s head is swarmed with every year he’s spent with Harry, every Christmas and subsequent aftermath. He’s never felt lighter than when they’re together, he can’t deny that. So as the scene in front of him starts to drift away he looks to Harry with his most determined face on. “We will,” he promises before everything fades to black. 

*******

Louis doesn’t know where he is. He can’t really see much if he’s honest, but he knows it’s cold here. Freezing is more like it. 

“Zayn,” he calls out tentatively and he almost jumps when the Ghost touches a light hand to his shoulder. 

“Sorry,” Ghost Zayn apologizes. “It’s time for me to go though.”

Pity. Louis really did like him with is quiet demeanor and subtle jokes. But that’s not the thing that’s most off putting here. No, the thing that’s making Louis most uncomfortable is that Zayn looks…scared?

He keeps looking over his shoulder apprehensively like he’s waiting for someone or something to attack at any moment. “I don’t like this part, I shouldn’t be here,” he mumbles.

Louis’s being more uneasy by the second. “Then why are you?”

Zayn’s eyes land on Louis and for a second he could swear it was his real Zayn. Because only his best friend could look at him with that much concern and protectiveness. Ghost Zayn has a grip on Louis’s arm pulling him closer before he can think on it much longer. 

“Future trips,” he says, “are never fun. And they’re worse the more stubborn you are—“ he stops talking and shoots a glance back over his shoulder tensing up until he decides there’s no immediate threat. “Just be careful, okay?”

Louis nods and there’s little else he as time to do before Zayn is gone and he’s alone again.

It’s eerie here. As if it’s not just dark right now where Louis is, but as if wherever he’s been transporting is always dark, always dreary, and never fully bathed in light. Not far from him he notes a figure coming into sight. There is absolute no one else around and Louis has seen enough horror films for him to know this is the part where he peels the fuck out of here. 

Except Ghost Zayn literally just told him not to be stubborn and well. Dammit.

Steeling himself, Louis tries to remain calm as the figure exits the darkness. He nearly swallows his tongue when he comes face to face with Liam.

Except. It’s not any Liam he’s ever known. This Liam has salt and pepper hair and frown lines permanently etched into the crease of his forehead. He looks at Louis with glazed eyes that somehow still burn into him and make him squirm like he’s being chastised.

They stare at each other. Louis figures he’s being sized up and waits for Liam to be done, to tell him what he should do next but no words ever come. 

Well. This is not how Louis expected things to go. He wagers with himself and wonders if he’s allowed to start the exchange. He figures there’s not much to lose here.

“Hi,” he ventures. Nothing.

“You’re the Ghost of Christmas Future, yeah?” Still silence. Louis’s about to give up when Liam gives a slow stoic nod before patting his hand to his chest in agreement. Then he’s lifting his hand to Louis beckoning him forward. 

Louis takes one uncertain step before he freezes, saying, “You sure you’re not the grim reaper?” He tries to make it a joke but honestly, it would be just his luck to die before he has a chance to fix all of this. Liam turns to glare at him and Louis’s wondering if this is enough to be what Christmas Present meant by “stubborn.” And if so, well, he’s fucked.

He follows behind, unsure of where they’re going and why they’re doing so on foot until Liam stops abruptly, Louis running into his backside in the process. The death glare he shoots at Louis does nothing to ease his anxiety. 

Ghost of Christmas Future is not such a riot, Louis notes. He surveys the area before deciding and points Louis in a direction off to the right. Louis points there in question.

“You want me to go over there?” he asks confusedly. 

Liam nods. There’s nothing there, hell, there’s nothing anywhere where they are, everything cloaked in the same cover of gray darkness. Nonetheless, Louis does as he’s told, walks a few paces to the right waiting for the big reveal when—he comes face to face with himself.

He breathes a sigh of relief at that because well, at least he’s not dead. He seems to remember all the movies he’s watched having an ending something like that and he’d been anxious about it all day. 

He’s older here, noticeably so, with gray patches at his temples. He looks maybe mid forties. His laugh lines are more prominent but not as much as he’d have assumed they’d be by this age. He doesn’t think that’s a good sign though.

Louis surveys his older self as he sits in some type of study and the place looks…trashed. Louis’s never been that tidy but he does keep a semblance of order where his office is concerned. This though, there’s papers slewn everywhere, all over the desk and the floor and every available service. Bills they look like along with newspaper clippings, all chaotic and collecting an impressive amount of dust. 

Louis is sitting in a chair at his desk, tapping his fingers on the top nervously. He reaches for his phone, seems to think better of it mid step, and bites at his nail end testily as he stares at the clock on his desk. Louis’s not sure how much time passes by that he watches before he sees his older self rev up enough courage to pick up the phone again and dial a number with lightening speed as if he’s afraid he might lose nerve. 

The phone rings six times before the dial tone catches him. 

“Liam!” he says, “I guess you’re out, sorry. Just um, just checking in! Heh. How are the kids, uh. Um—“ he pulls the phone from his ear, shakes his head like that’s nothing he wanted to say, and hangs up in a haste. Louis stares at him. 

“Well that was embarrassing,” he tells himself. 

Future Louis thinks so too as the apples of his cheeks burn up and he grumbles to himself. 

Louis's hanging his own head in shame too, so he doesn't notice when his future self abruptly rises from his seat and makes his way to the exit, snatching his overcoat on the way. Louis rises quickly, tries to keep up as he follows him through the dark and from what he can see, empty house and out the front door into the cold. 

He's not sure, how long they walk, but he thinks they've surely got to be making their way halfway across town by the way his fingers feel frozen when they finally stop. The house they come to is nice, but unfamiliar to him. It's bustling on the inside, Louis can tell, laughter ringing throughout. Through the window he can spot a Christmas tree and decorations that seem to expand the whole house by the looks of it. His future self looks pained, like actual maybe someone should call a medic pained, and when Louis peers over at him, he's never seen his own eyes look so dead. It makes his breath catch at the surprise of it. 

Future Louis doesn't seem to notice his change in demeanor though as he walks up to the door and just. Stands there. He stands on the doorstep raging a war with himself on whether to knock, the internal struggle making him look more like a crazy man.

Dumbfounded, Louis take a closer look at the window. He doesn't know these people, is the first thing he realizes. There's a woman running around with gingerbread and about three kids if Louis can count correctly all close behind her. To be honest, it looks like something out of a Hallmark card. 

Louis is feeling exceptionally creepy and is about to stop looking when he hears someone's call of "Mummy where's Daddy?" and has just enough presence of mind to listen to the woman answer, "I think he's in the kitchen, dear."

"Harry!" she calls, "The kids are waiting!"

Louis is maybe the dullest bulb in the chandelier. 

"Fuck," he curses and for the first time he really looks at the children. There's a boy of about five closest to the window who, upon closer inspection, is a spitting image of Harry, maybe with shorter hair and darker eyes, but fuck.

Louis feels like his chest will never stop constricting. Like all the oxygen in the world will never be enough for him.

"Harry," the woman calls again and Louis jumps away from the window as if it's burned him because he cannot cannot cannot let the scene complete itself in his mind, he can't.

He's panting as he walks to the curb, his head pounding as he looks back to his future self still frozen at the doorstep, hands shaking like he can't possibly control them.

Louis plops down on the curb, brings his knees up so he can rest his head in his hands because this is just--

"Pathetic," he says, "This is what you want me to see?" he asks knowing Ghost Liam has to be around somewhere. "I don't die, but I get to live my life being extra pathetic and have no one want me?"

When he picks his head up, Liam is standing in front of him. There's pity in his eyes. Louis hates it.

"I don't need him," Louis argues because, hell, he _doesn't_. He is perfectly capable of living a fulfilling life without Harry and he doesn't appreciate anyone insinuated he can't. In any instance, Harry is happy. The family in there looks exactly like everything he would have wanted and from the looks of it all Louis has to offer is an old friend coming to ruin the Christmas cheer and scare the children on Christmas Eve. So really, Harry doesn't need Louis either.

But Liam is still just standing there. 

"What?" Louis snaps and he is rewarded with being pointed in a new direction now. Louis vaguely wonders what would happen if he just sat here and refused to move. Bad things, he thinks so he heaves a breath and gets up, only needing to walk a few paces before the scene around him shifts again. 

He's back where he started, standing outside of the house he just left. Odd. Looking around for Liam he notes that the street his basically empty. Except for Harry walking up the street that is. 

He looks...tired. But breathtaking all the same, Louis can't help but acknowledge. His brow scrunches as he watches Harry stalk up to his front door and pound at it. 

"Louis!" he calls. It seems he has a lot more balls than Louis's future self can account for. He bangs on the door again looking as determined as ever.

"Same night?" Louis asks and Liam is there to nod in answer. 

Louis watches the man as he continues to beat down the door. His actions are more desperate than Louis's had been, and he doesn't know which one was harder to watch.

Louis snorts at him.

"So we spend the rest of our lives pining after each other?" he asks rolling his eyes because that is not how they work, neither together nor apart. 

Liam is still offering no commentary, just watches.

"This is so pathetic, why don't they just move on?" he asks more to himself in frustration. 

Because you never stop fighting for your soulmate, he thinks.

God, does his head hurt and he feels like he could collapse because this is worse than he would have imagined. The two of them still playing this game of circles, Harry leaving his perfect family to go in search of Christmas at Louis's doorstep, neither of them _coping_ and he hates it, he hates this shirt tugging desperation they've built up only to leave it untouched for so long until it _hurts_ physically hurts to think about.

And Louis will stand by it, _he does not need Harry_ , but God does he want him.

He wants to come home to him every day and rant or rave or both about work and settle in for dinner. He wants to kiss him until he can't stop smiling every night and hold him while he dreams little scenes that will never compare to the ones they're already living in their lives together. He wants to get a house with him and buy a fish, and let Harry give it some god awful name like Steve or Wilbert. He wants to spend his time planning holidays with Harry and spend his Sunday mornings curled up on the couch with him and watching shit tv or drinking tea by the fire or doing nothing other than feeling his presence right there next to him and know he's not going anywhere. What he want's is to spend every single Christmas he has left with Harry and continue to see him every day in between.

He wants anything other than to sit here and watch both Harry and himself dissolve into these caricatures of themselves where their love for each other is not longer the source of their strength, but of their weakness.

"I want to go home," he says trying to drown out the sounds of Harry's cries in the background.

Liam surveys him from where he stand on the side of the road and Louis waits hoping that maybe he's proven himself less stubborn.

"Okay," his ghost friend says startling Louis as he reaches out a hand and offers a smile. 

Louis breathes a sigh of relief that could probably be classified as a sob, as he rises up and grips the hand in front of him. 

Louis has never been happier to feel himself fade away.

***********

Louis is face down into his pillow when a hand gingerly touches his shoulder. He jolts awake at the sensation and gasps for a breath with his eyes wide and alert. 

“Oh, sorry, sir,” Sandra says pulling back, “I didn’t mean to startle you, but you slept through your alarm.”

Looking to the side, Louis notes his new alarm clock sitting pristinely on his bedside table. 

“What day is it?” he blurts mildly panicked. 

Sandra is obviously confused by his demeanor but she only answers. “It’s the 24th.”

Louis blinks at her. “Yesterday was the 23rd,” he states. 

“Yes, sir, that’s usually how dates work,” she deadpans and laughter barks out of his mouth sudden enough to startle even himself.

“I was drunk yesterday, raving about working through the holidays, yes? Being kind of an ass?” he seeks confirmation.

She looks at him untrusting and shrugs.

“And now it’s Christmas Eve,” he continues.

“Yes, and,” she agrees slowly, calling Louis’s attention to what’s in her hands, “it’s your birthday,” she finishes handing him a cupcake with a smiley face on the top. 

A smile breaks through his face a mile wide as he rises up to tug her into a hug. 

“Thank you so much,” he whispers reverently, but she cuts him off.

“Actually, this is from Mr. Payne,” she confesses. “Though I did tell him the smiley face would be a nice touch.”

She was right. It makes all the difference.

“Is he here,” Louis asks biting his lip when Sandra shakes her head. He makes a mental note to deal with that later.

There’s a chance Louis may have lost his mind during the night, but he’s willing to roll with it now. 

“Sandy,” he says hoping fully out of bed, “Can you do me a huge favor and send everyone a message that work’s cancelled today? And for the rest of the week? Oh!” he adds like he can’t believe he’d almost forgotten, “and tell Wilson to take as much time as he needs, yeah?”

She blinks. Dumbfounded, Louis would call that look.

He has to laugh at that as he pulls her in for another hug. “And thank you for putting up with me, doll,” he says. “I know it’s not the easiest job.”

He gives her one final smile before he’s whizzing around his room, the rest of his morning a blur of phone calls and signing Christmas bonuses from his office. He finally gets a minute to collect his thoughts and survey the small amount of work he’s accomplished so far, closing his eyes for a moment to breathe. The sight that meets him when he peels his eyes open almost has his skin jump off in surprise. Because he has no explanation for why an eighteen year old Niall Horan is sitting to the side of office desk.

“Again?” Louis asks thunderstruck. “There’s no way I fucked up that quickly.”

Niall hops down from the desktop, but he’s laughing when he does so. “Relax, we’re here to help,” he explains.

And sure enough when Louis turns around he sees both Zayn and Liam leaning against the other wall.

“You remember Present, Future,” Niall takes the liberty of introducing them as they wave to Louis.

“Yeah,” Louis deadpans, “Kind of hard to forget, you all are.”

“Well we got somewhere to send you,” speaks Zayn as he comes up to rub the skin at Louis’s neck. Louis doesn’t fight it when the room fades to black around him.

**********

When he comes to he's disoriented and standing on a familiar street. Looking up he takes in a flat complex that he instantly recognizes as Niall's London home. 

Of course, he thinks to himself, years later and Harry still doesn't have a fucking house.

Nonetheless, he braces himself for whatever's coming and marches up the steps to the front door. Something catches in the corner of his eye and the ruling is still out on whether or not Louis’s gone completely insane when he sees his three ghostly escorts waving to him encouragingly on the side of the road. He returns their thumbs up and shakes his head as he knocks on the door.

His knocks don't take long to get answered as Niall curiously opens the door, and his face takes less than a second to split into a smile. Louis always knew he loved this guy.

"Loueee," he sings pulling him into an airtight bear hug. "Happy birthday, ya dope. I've been calling you!"

Louis laughs into the embrace. "Yeah, sorry about that mate. I misplaced my phone, I think."

Niall for all he's worth doesn't seem too bothered. He pulls back and cups Louis's face in his hands, sizing him up. 

"Should I be excited that you've come to visit me, or should I go the more obvious route?" is all he offers.

Louis blushes. "Is he here then?"

Niall's already shaking his head, exasperated. "He's in the kitchen," he says nodding his head back into the flat. 

Louis peeks over his shoulder, but he can't see anything from where he's stood.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Niall claps him on the shoulder. "Well, I've got some errands to run anyway, so why don't I leave you two to chat for a while."

"No, I don't wanna put you out," is what Louis tries to say, but Niall is already waving him off as he pulls his coat on and slips into his boots. 

"I'll be back in a couple of hours," he says slipping out the door and nudging Louis inside. He closes the door behind him only to reopen it immediately to add, "Just keep it away from where I eat, alright? And sleep," he adds for good measure, and Louis would hit him if he weren't so fast out the door.

He is though, and soon Louis is left standing alone in Niall's entryway on his birthday with the man of his dreams in the next room and well. It's quite tasking.

"Niall, you didn't leave yet did you?" Harry calls out, none the wiser. Louis huffs out a breath and follows the voice until he's standing in the doorway of Niall's kitchen.

Harry's running around in an apron, and that makes Louis laugh inside because he knows Niall doesn't own one of those, so either Harry bought one especially to keep in Niall's kitchen or he keeps one packed with him at all times. Louis doesn't know which one's funnier, but the whole thing is apparently humorous enough for Harry to notice him standing there.

He coughs when Harry looks up at him, eyes wide and mouth frozen kind of slack. Right, he's here for a reason other than watching Harry look endearing in front of a stove.

"Hi," he says instantly wincing at the rasp in his voice. 

Harry drops whatever spoon he’s holding, the sound of it clanging loudly against the counter as he stalks towards Louis. 

"Where have you been?" he says tenderly, like he's afraid of being to reproachful as he stops mere inches in front of Louis. He seems to think better of his actions before looking to Louis demurely, saying, "I uh, I went by your place earlier. I thought maybe you just weren't answering, but um, I still have my key?"

He trails off on what Louis assumes must be a rather embarrassing story on his behalf.

"So you decided to break and enter my house?" he deadpans.

It's Harry's turn to wince. "Just a little. I figured if you were still asleep, I could get you breakfast started, but then you weren't there at all and, yeah." He shrugs. What a peculiar man.

Louis hates that he's endeared except for the part where he doesn't at all. 

"Yeah, sorry, I had some...things to take care of before the day started." 

That sounds lame, Louis knows, but Harry's mind seems rapped up on more than Louis's subpar excuses. 

He's fidgeting now, Louis notices. Nothing good ever comes from Harry fidgeting about. "You can like, tell me if you were um. If you were with someone, you know?" Harry finally utters.

Louis bites back a scoff at that. 

"Wasn't with anyone. Not like that," Louis assures him and Harry looks up at him from where he'd been meddling at the edge of the work surface, even though his fingers are still tapping away.

Louis reaches out to place his hand over them, calm them down.

"Harr--"

"I'm not engaged, you know," Harry blurts before Louis can get a word in. He looks frantic, like he can't order his thoughts to say everything he wants fast enough. "I should have made that clear last night, but I'm not. Never was."

"I know," Louis says.

"I mean, I know it's everywhere but-- what?" Harry asks perplexed, his mind only just catching up with what Louis's said.

"I know you're not engaged. Those mags are shit, I know."

"You do?" asks Harry with eyes so large and hopeful it makes Louis's heart swim. 

He nods as convincingly as possible, and Harry huffs out a breath as he plops down onto a bar stool. "Oh."

Louis takes him in where he's sat, lost for words and he takes a step forward, places a tender hand to Harry's shoulder.

"Tell me about New York," he commands. Harry looks at him with a whole world flashing through his eyes, and Louis has to know the stories behind that. 

"What do you wanna know?" Harry hedges precautiously.

What does Louis want to know? "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did--"

"Telling me a week before you're moving doesn't count."

Harry has the decency to look shameful. "I dunno, it happened so fast. Wasn't much time between when I agreed to go and when I left."

Louis sizes him up with his lip firmly between his teeth. 

"You always said moving was like moving on. Like necessary when there wasn't enough left to explore where you were..."

Harry's gaping at him. Despite everything, Louis is able to spare a second to acknowledge how cute he is. Dammit.

"No, what, Louis that is not what happened here. I got an offer to do some work in New York, but there was still plenty I wanted here."

"Was there?" Louis can feel his uncertainty weighing him down. "You didn't think maybe everything here had run its course?" It's cryptic and Louis would be more annoyed with himself if he thought he could handle a more blunt conversation.

"When have we ever 'run our course' Louis?" Harry asks utilizing air quotes. 

That's not the point and Louis says as much. "Just, you can tell me if you were tired of running in circles with me."

Harry is shaking his head and his brow is scrunched like he can't stand a word Louis saying, but Louis knows that can't be completely true. Reaching out, Harry grabs at Louis's elbows brings him into the few inches between his legs and settles him there. 

"I got a job offer, and I took it. That's it."

"For an indefinite amount of time," Louis amends. 

Harry stares at him. "I figured we could make it work. I just, fuck, I didn't know how to work up to telling you. It was Christmas and I'd barely seen you, I didn't want to dampen the mood. But then you were with me and I was holding you and I always get flashbacks to our first time together," Harry says into Louis's ear, "how it was so perfect, how I felt I could tell you anything, you know." 

Louis does know. He knows exactly how much remembering their first Christmas together can consume a person.

"I just, I didn't want to keep anything from you anymore, so I blurted it out." Harry moves to tug on Louis's chin, brings them face to face. "In hindsight, it wasn't the best delivery."

Louis bursts into laughter at that, feels like his insides are finally given oxygen and able to breathe when he hears Harry quietly join him.

"Though to be fair, I've never been good at delivery when the pressure's on," Harry continues through a grin. "Like last night, I think I should have started with 'Hey, by the way, I'm not engaged and I'm still in love with you.' Maybe would have gotten me a lot further. 

Louis smiles into Harry's shoulder at that. "Maybe," he mumbles his agreement. "And maybe I could have, you know, not shut you out after you moved. That could have helped too."

Louis would feel more remorseful if Harry weren't smiling at him so brightly. 

"Life lessons learned, I think," Harry murmurs quietly instead of adding to their list of all around failures. Louis nods and keeps his eyes locked on Harry's, repaints the memory of them into his mind.

"I'm sorry," slips past his lips, but it's swallowed before it's fully out by the gentle press of Harry's mouth.

Louis feels the weight of this entire year slowly peel off of him because he can never feel down when he's kissing Harry. It's been ten years and each time it feels like he's found solace and comfort. He feels like he's eighteen again and for a second he gets to forget what his life is about to become, stop worrying about what's going to jump out at him at any given corner. Instead all he knows is soft lips and strong hands and a gentle boy who screams iloveyou with every brush of his lips. 

Leaning deeper into the kiss, Louis lets his tongue slip into Harry's mouth, let's his senses be overtaken by his smell. Harry smells like Christmas. There's no other way to describe it as Louis grips him tighter like he refuses to let go this time. He smells like fresh cookies and frosting and cocoa and fireplaces and love and Louis thinks he could happily drown here in his arms. 

"I love you so much," he says against Harry's lips caught in a tango of wanting to repeat that forever but never wanting his lips to leave Harry's ever again.

"Love you too," Harry gives back. Louis thinks his ribcage might explode from the stamped of butterflies. 

"Say it again," he murmurs, and he feels Harry's smirk on his mouth.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Harry repeats, peppering kisses wherever he can think to place them: Louis's mouth, his cheek, his forehead, his nose, his wrist, anywhere he can capture. 

Louis laughs into the onslaught, pulls Harry mouth back up to his to shut him up as they move their lips in sync again. 

"God," he exalts, breaking away for air, only to have Harry press their foreheads together and lock them there. "Fuck, I really need this to work this time," he says. 

Harry's nodding, but Louis stops him before he can agree much more.

"No, Harry I'm serious. You may not have been tired of the back and forth but, honestly, I was," he confesses. "Enough that I thought cutting you out of my life was the better option, but, baby," he says gripping at Harry's neck, "that is not what I want."

Harry bites back a smile as he stares into Louis's eyes. 

"What do you want, then?"

Louis hums like he's thinking while his eyes crinkle up in the corners. There’s so much riding on this, but somehow he feels lighter already. "I want you, mostly. But I think I'm ready to have you all the time if that's okay. Not just whenever the Christmas spirit is upon us. Can that get on my Christmas list?"

Harry tugs his boy down onto his lap and hugs him for all he's worth. "I think we can manage that," he agrees. 

Louis thinks it might be a Christmas miracle.

**********

Niall is home within the hour, comes in with his hands over his eyes and yells out “Is everyone decent?” before he dares take more than a few steps in. Harry and Louis tell him he need not worry though as they maintain the seats they claimed on the couch almost since Niall left. 

While he was gone, Louis made Harry tell him about all his NYC adventures and who his friends were and where he liked to visit in his free time. His eyes shine as he talks about it and it tugs a little at Louis’s stomach.

“Why’d you come back?” he asks eventually, hoping he doesn’t come off too abrasive. “You just--I can tell you loved it,” he finishes lamely.

Harry studies him for a minute then shrugs. “I guess sometimes you just miss home,” Harry answers and Louis knows it’s never that simple for Harry. Home has never been a place for him.

But as Harry cozies up closer to his boy on the sofa, Louis can only describe him as ‘settled.’

After Niall returns though, he plays the evasive game seemingly trying not to mention right out that he’s going to Liam’s. Louis catches on anyway because Niall is shit at giving a poker face, and both he and Harry are even worse at hiding their surprise when Louis volunteers to go with him.

To be honest, Liam is no better than they are. Louis wonders if he’s even breathing when he walks through the door of his home some fifteen minutes later. 

Luckily, Zayn is already there and gives Liam a nudge in the stomach before coming over to meet Louis.

“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” he chastises though it’s not very effective with the way he pulls Louis into a vice tight hug. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks man,” Louis smiles but he misses the way Zayn’s eyes zero in on Harry as soon as he turns his back to face Liam.

“Hi, Li,” he greets.

Liam half smiles. Louis has a second of doubt in which he wonders if Liam was actually the one who sent the cupcake at all. This doesn’t look like the kind of guy who would send his grown best friend and business partner a sugar pastry with smiling frosting.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Louis asks, pushing past his anxiety because dammit, he is tired of that holding him back from everyone he loves.

The other boys have enough decency to clear out into the sitting room next door leaving Louis and Liam alone. The room rings in uncomfortable silence, enough to make Louis’s skin itchy.

“So did you only make one cupcake or are you holding out on me?” Louis starts, hoping dry humor is enough to break the ice.

At the very least, it’s enough to make Liam look at him. “You got that did you?”

“Mhmm,” Louis answers and geez is this awkward. He’s twenty eight years old; he hasn’t had a feelings circle since primary school, yet today he feels like that’s all he’s doing.

Which should probably mean he’s practiced enough to do better than blurt out “Come back to work, please,” but that is clearly not the case. “I mean,” he amends, “not today or anything. In fact, everyone has the week off, but, like, on Monday. Come back to work on Monday?” he asks fretfully. 

“You sure?” Liam questions and Louis is about to launch into another plea when he belatedly realizes that Liam like’s to watch him squirm. The bastard.

“Liam, c’mon!” he says instead slapping his arm for good measure.

Liam laughs. “Alright, alright, you don’t have to beg,” he concedes. “I was actually planning to stretch this break out until the new year, but I guess Monday will do too.”

To be honest, Louis was expecting that he’d have to beg. “Really? That’s it, you’ll come back?” he asks, not convinced it could be this easy.

“Of course,” Liam says looping an arm around his neck. “We’re a team and you’re too stubborn and I’m too uptight but, you know, it works,” he explains, ruffling Louis’s hair. “And,” he adds, “I’ve missed you maybe a little.” Louis grins at him. They’ve got matching crinkles by their eyes these days.

“It has been rather depressing not seeing you in your office. And I may have scared away half the workers,” Louis confesses.

To his surprise, Liam just nods. “Yeah, I’ve heard. I’ve been trying to do damage control.”

What would Louis do without him? 

“Just, Liam?” he says as they move to find the other boys. “Promise me you’ll answer if I call you at Christmas. Even if I’m old and cranky and all alone. Okay?”

Liam at least has the decency not to tell Louis he thinks he’s mad. “Sure, thing,” he says instead choosing to just agree. 

When they enter the sitting room Louis’s eyes zero in on Harry, but he immediately stutters on his stalk towards him, noting the blush on his cheeks. 

“What’s this then?” he questions gesturing at Harry’s reddened features. He squeezes in beside him on the couch, strokes a finger over the apples of Harry’s cheeks and feels the warmth underneath.

“Just having a friendly chat,” Zayn answers in a way that lets Louis know it wasn’t at all friendly. Niall snorts into his hand as blood continues to rush to Harry’s face.

He leans in to Louis’s ear and lets his hand come up to grip Louis’s bicep. “It’s nothing,” he says, “Zayn’s just rather graphic about what he’ll being doing to me should I ‘hurt you again,’” Harry quotes.

“Aww,” Louis coos at him, “Zayn, don’t take you’re frustrations at me out on Harry.” He reaches up to scratch the back of Harry’s head making him feel cozy and warm while Zayn just shrugs.

“Are you staying for good, then?” pipes Liam, and Louis didn’t think he was waiting on a definite answer, but now he finds himself holding his breath as Harry snuggles in closer to him. His grip tightens around Louis’s waist and he knocks them down so they’re more so lying on the couch than sitting.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “I’m home now.”

Louis bites the inside of his cheek lest he do something embarrassing like give his Harry smile or jump up and start singing. “Good,” he says instead, “so you can come with me to Lottie’s tonight.” He mentally gives himself a pat on the back; he is the picture of cool.

Harry, however, has other plans. “Okay,” he says nudging his nose against the vein in Louis’s neck. “We can go tonight. And tomorrow if you want. And the day after that,” he says kissing where the vein pops up. “And the middle of next week,” he trails his finger up Louis’s bicep. “And again next year,” a kiss to the cheek this time. “And the next, and the next for as long as you want,” he promises staring into Louis. He hears the unspoken _I’ll be here_ like a resounding dong and his heart swells three times its size.

He hears gagging noises somewhere in the distance but he barely registers them because times like these nothing is louder than Louis’s love for the man right here in his arms.

“Calm down, Malik,” Niall butts in, “This is great. All the boys back together again,” he nearly shouts before joining Harry and Louis on the over cramped sofa, hugging them tight. The dog pile that follows is inevitable but Louis doesn’t even mind being on the bottom and consequently the most squished because Niall’s right. All his boys are here and together and loved and really it’s the best Christmas gift he’s gotten thus far.

  

**Epilogue**

Louis wakes to a scratch on his nose that makes him twitch in his sleep. He reaches up a hand to bat it away, but it just keeps coming back annoying him.

"Louis," he hears his name called long and drawn out. "Louuuu."

"No," he grumbles, rolling deeper into his cocoon of comforters, "Sleep time."

The scratching merely travels to his ear now from how he's turned on his side. "But Louis," the voice says, "Do you know what today is?"

Louis lifts one lid to stare at his boyfriend where he's now draped himself over Louis's side wielding a branch of mistletoe. He's smiling like it's not a god awful time in the morning, and Louis wants to be annoyed still, but his fluttering heart gets in the way.

"It's your birthday," Harry answers his own question.

Louis groans. "Uh, don't remind me, I'm so old!" he whines pulling a pillow in front of his face.

"You're twenty-nine," Harry argues.

"Twenty. Nine," Louis agrees. "Like almost thirty, god." Harry's laughing at him. He reaches out a hand and grasps at one of Louis's wrist. "Baby, you won't leave me next year when I'm old and grey and need special pills to get it up, will you?"

His bark of laughter makes it all worth wild. "Wouldn't dream of it," he comforts, "I quite like the sound of dating an older man, actually."

Louis quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Gemma's been calling you my sugar daddy for weeks now," Harry says flashing the fancy new watch Louis'd gotten for him. He'd meant it to be a Christmas present originally, but he'd been so excited after buying it he'd barely been able to make it to dinner that night before presenting it, knowing how much Harry would love it.

"But anyway," Harry says, pulling his attention back. "You're breaking the rules," he chastises.

"What rules?" Louis rasps.

Harry wiggles the mistletoe above his head again for emphasis and Louis narrows his eyes at him.

"Aren't you breaking the rules actually?" he quips, "You're supposed to let it happen by chance."

Harry gapes at him, mock offended. "I did!" he defends. "It was by complete chance that I woke up before you, stole the mistletoe from the living room, and happened to place it right over your head before you woke up." He jingles it again.

Louis doesn't think Harry knows what "chance" means, but he's cute when he thinks he's funny so Louis lets him have that one as he leans up, meeting Harry half way as their lips seal together. He's had this everyday for a year now, but he still doesn't think he'll ever get enough. He take comfort and knowing there's no rush. Harry's lips are softer than usual today, as they force Louis's lips to part, his tongue warm as it slips in to wrestle with Louis's own.

His hand gives Louis chills as it snakes its way under Louis's tshirt, and Louis almost lets himself get pulled under before the day's agenda come to mind.

"No, no no," he says swatting Harry's hand away. "You got your kiss, don't be greedy. We have much to do today."

It's Harry's turn to groan, but he really can't argue, so he gets up and he and Louis whiz around each other as they get ready for the day.

___

LEGEND's Christmas party starts early, Louis and Liam not wanting to keep everyone too long during the holiday.

The turn out is a success, employees, families, and friends, showing up to the office in full force. Louis makes the round to everyone, complimenting work and meeting his employee's families. He spots Wilson and his family at the cookie decorating station and goes over to say hello. His daughter, Wilson says, has shifted from a princess stage to a weird princess-Iron Man hybrid. Louis stays to talk with her for a long time, listening intently as she explains that yes, Iron Man is actually a princess, she doesn't know how no one else seems to pick up on this. Louis has to admit, he' fascinated by her spin on things.

Harry shows up every time Louis moves on to a new crowd and each time he insists on doing his mistletoe bit because Louis can't possibly turn him down in front of an audience even though this is approximately the twenty-first time he's done the bit today alone.

To everyone's surprise Zayn and Perrie show up about an hour in with their brand new baby in tow. Louis knows they’re there not from actually seeing them himself, but more from the squeal he hears from Harry across the room. He excuses himself from where he'd been talking to Sandra and comes up behind his boyfriend, resting a hand on his hip.

"Hi, sweet angel," he's cooing bouncing the baby in his hands. Her hazel eyes are huge as she studies him her fingers in her mouth. She's got a bit of drool coming down one side and rubs what Louis hopes is applesauce from her bib to Harry's jumper. 

Harry has never looked happier.

"Oh, Louis look!" he says pulling the mistletoe from his pocket and leaning the baby closer to him. "You've got caught under the mistletoe again," he jokes. Louis's smile splits even wider as he reaches out and plants a kiss to the baby's plump cheek.

"Hi, sweetheart," he greets, "How's my favorite niece?" He takes one of her hands in his and bounces with Harry as they coo at her. 

She's enough to keep Harry occupied when Liam signals for Louis a minute later. 

Together the two of them go to the front of the room, and thank everyone for coming out, give a much deserved good job for a year well done with their company and raise a toast to the holidays. This year, Louis measures his accomplishments from all his hard work from the number of faces smiling back up at him. 

They wish every one a Merry Christmas one last time and when Louis goes to find Harry again, he finds him still with baby in tow, but this time he's sat next to both their mums. He goes unnoticed as he approaches them, all three making funny faces trying to make the baby girl laugh. 

However, when they do notice him, Louis thinks he's never seen a more obvious onslaught. All three of their faces read very clearly, "Louis when are you going to give us a baby?"

"Zayn!" he calls, as they stare up at him with devilish smirks. Zayn, bless him, is there in a second and reads the situation even quicker. 

"Hey princess," he grins at his baby girl, "Let's go find Mama and check out those cookies over there, yeah?"

Harry's brow scrunches in dismay when there's not longer a baby in his hands and he comes up to Louis very obviously pouting. 

"Sorry, love," Louis comforts, "I'm sure you two can play again later," he says taking Harry by the waist and away from their mothers.

To be fair, he doesn't plan on giving them grandchildren before he checks off giving them a son-in-law. Not that Louis's been ring shopping or anything. Browsing at most. The ring shop just happens to be next to where he gets his suits tailored, sue him.

The thing is though, when Harry decides to start pouting, it takes a while for him to snap out of it. 

So Louis finds himself shifting his eyes around the room before he stealthily pulls Harry into his office and shuts the door, taking advantage of the blinds he never uses these days.

The lock of the door rings in the room around them, most of the noise from outside lost here. Louis cocks his head to the side and gives Harry an up and down as he rests against Louis’s desk, putting on more of a show now than anything.

Louis can play along. He takes a step closer to him, stops to look up under his eyelashes. Harry pretends to be unimpressed. 

“Baby,” Louis calls taking a step forward. 

When Harry doesn’t respond, Louis takes tactics into his own hands as he jumps up onto his desk, startling Harry in the process. But Harry’s been dealing with Louis for years now, so he recovers quickly, pretending to be uninterested.

His back is to Louis as Louis reaches up behind him and lets his arms loop around Harry’s neck. 

“Hey,” he calls again leaning in to whisper in Harry’s ear, “It’s Christmas,” he lament with a kiss behind the ear.

Harry nonchalantly hums his agreement but Louis can see his cracks showing.

“It’s Christmas,” Louis repeats, “and you haven’t made love to me yet.” He lets the statement hang in the air while his fingers come around to scratch down Harry’s chest. “Do you see the problem with that?” he asks.

Harry shivers into his touch finally caving as he turns around in Louis’s embrace.

“You wanna skip out on your own Christmas party?” Harry asks, his voice noticeably huskier than usual.

Louis glances around the room, down at the desk, suggestively.

“Oh,” Harry breaths catching on. He gestures about the room with his hands and mimes “here?” his mouth quirking up around the word. 

Louis shrugs, gets rid of the few inches that are still separating them as he flushes their chests flat together. Harry grins devilishly at him and shifts them around so that Louis is flat on his back atop the desk. At the moment he is very thankful for big corporate positions and even more thankful for the big desks they’re rewarded as Harry climbs to hover above him.

He sits prettily with his legs on either side of Louis’s waist, but Louis knows not to underestimate how dangerous he can be when he wants.

He bends down to brush his lips against the shell of Louis’s ear. “Ever had sex in here?” he questions and Louis leers up at him.

“A first,” he answers.

“Lucky me,” Harry shoots back, forcing Louis’s eyes to flutter as he grinds dryly on top of him.

“Have you,” Louis huffs trying to regain control, “thought about having sex with me in here?”

Harry smirks. “I’m surprised it took us so long to do this, honestly,” he confesses not even bothering to feign indignity. “It’s that bloody Liam, always hanging out when I wanna visit you at lunch.”

Louis snickers at that. “Well no one but us now,” he comforts pushing up into Harry’s crotch. 

He hisses above Louis, lets his arms come up to frame Louis’s head where Harry’s own is still tucked. “Why are you wearing so many clothes?” he growls at Louis.  
Louis feels his own cock swell up as he snakes a hand into Harry’s pants, elated that he’s not the only one. He squeezes around Harry, makes sure his grip is firm as he strokes as best he can from his angle. 

“God,” Harry breaths letting his hands rove around under Louis’s jumper. “Maybe we should bring it down,” he murmurs against the skin at Louis’s collarbone. “We don’t even have stuff.”

“Lap draw,” Louis says shooing away the mere idea of stopping. Harry pauses on the bruise he was working on next to Louis’s chest piece. “A guy can dream,” Louis explains chuckling and Harry follows suit but nonetheless, reaches into the lap drawer to pull out two small foil packets.

“Amazing,” Harry deadpans and he slithers down Louis’s body to peel Louis’s trousers away. The tip of his length is leaking into the front of his pants and Harry ravages him with just his eyes; it’s so intense it makes Louis’s skin feel heated and too hot for his body.

Harry’s massaging at his thighs while he sits above him, teasingly avoiding giving any contact to Louis’s crotch. “What would you like, birthday boy?” Harry asks letting his fingers knead into Louis’s muscles. Louis thinks on that. His senses already feel overrun with everything Harry, and he’s not sure there’s anything Harry could do to him that he would enjoy.

“Mmm,” he hums though he quickly sucks in a breath when Harry lets one of his fingers slip up to graze the underside of his cock.

“Sorry,” Harry murmurs though Louis knows he’s not sorry at all. “It’s so hard not to touch you when you’re all laid out for me like this,” and that’s enough to have Louis bring his arm over his face and buck up into his pants, hoping for friction.

Harry pins his hips down before he can get any satisfaction out of it. “No you don’t,” he reprimands, “I’m offering you whatever you want babe, you don’t have to do it yourself. Louis huffs a breath at him. It’s not that big of a decision considering realistically Harry will give him whatever he wants on any given day, but his mind is running rampant because he always wants everything when it comes to Harry.

“Fingers,” he settles on, mumbling the word into his arm.

“What was that?” Harry asks even though they both know he’s heard Louis, the bastard. But Louis want to be stubborn today, he wants to be touched, so he pulls his arm away from his face and levels Harry with an unwavering stare. “I want your fingers,” he states bluntly and bucks his hips up again into Harry’s hand. 

“Brilliant,” Harry leers as he hooks his thumbs into Louis’s pants and tugs them off. “Shirt too,” he says before Louis can fully relax and within seconds Louis is laid bare on full display.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Lou,” Harry laments as he peels his own sweater off and bends down to nip at Louis’s collarbone. Louis involuntarily lifts his hips up and lets out a gust of breath when his cock rubs against Harry’s stomach. He repeats the movement and gets lost in the feel of Harry’s mouth on his skin so much so that he doesn’t notice Harry’s hand until his finger is nudging lightly against his hole. 

He still gasps, whining at the touch as Harry rubs circles around him. He stares at Louis unapologetically, teases at his hole and spreading the slick around until it’s warm and leaving Louis aching for more.

“Harry,” Louis keens, just as Harry relents enough to let a finger slip inside, pressing against Louis’s walls. “Ung.”

Harry’s fingers are like every gift Louis’s ever gotten wrapped into one. He’s smart with them, knows when to tease and when to go harder, knows the perfect balance between the two. It’s a dance that keeps Louis’s toes curling, never knowing what he should expect next from the deft strokes of Harry’s fingers.

Louis thinks they’re dangerous. Like if pushed far enough he would give Harry anything he wanted—a ring, a baby, a desert island, anything—if it meant he could feel his fingers forever. And he’s getting dangerously close to that level of adoration right now as Harry pushes a third finger inside of him. 

“Jesus fuck,” Louis swears when he twists his fingers about and he’s met with a glare as Harry looks ups under his eyelashses. 

“Shh,” Harry admonishes removing his free hand from where it’s pressing against the crotch of his pants to slip two fingers into Louis’s mouth.

“Mmm,” he moans around them in grateful acceptance, and his vision whites out as Harry grazes against his prostate. A squirt of precome slips across Harry’s stomach when Louis lifts his hips again. Louis feels like he’s floating as he rides down on Harry’s fingers and lets himself get lost in the strokes Harry so attentatively supplies him.

“Baby,” he groans when reaching for Harry’s wrist when he feels another squirt of precome. He already feels like he could burst, a tight coil in his stomach begging for release and Harry’s predatory face above him pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

Harry bites his lip but nods and evokes a pitiful whimper from Louis’s lips when he takes all his fingers back. “Sorry,” he murmurs giving an apologetic squeeze to Louis’s cock. But Louis is already so sensitive, so on edge that even Harry’s normally inconsequential touch is enough to arc his back off the desk top. 

He hisses when he drops back down and oh, he hadn’t thought about how treacherous this position would be on his back. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry though as he reaches out quizzically pulling Louis into an upright position in front of him. He lets his fingers rub down Louis’s back, sliding over the places Louis’s skin has been rubbed raw from where he’d squirmed against the hard desktop so much. He lightens his touch where Louis sucks in a breath. Harry tsks at him.

“Should’ve told me you were marring up your back like this,” Harry says. 

Louis hides his face into Harry’s shoulder. “Didn’t notice,” he confesses half embarrassed, half turned on.

Harry lets out a gust of breath at that and pulls Louis’s chin up so he can seal their lips together. His tongue roams around in Louis’s mouth until he all but forgets every bruise currently purpling on his back. 

“Here,” Harry mutters against Louis’s lips. He pulls up their jumpers from where they were thrown on the ground and makes a cushion of them. Lying back, Louis gets used to the soft scratch of the fabric as he watches Harry prep himself. He finally peels his pants off and his dick looks painfully hard when it’s freed, dribbling over tip. 

Louis keeps his eyes locked on Harry entranced as he holds himself at the base and slides the condom on. Harry serves him a stare just as intense as he gives himself a few long strokes and then he’s in Louis’s space again, his body heat enveloping Louis and the tip of his cock nudging against Louis’s hole. 

It doesn’t take much for Harry to ease in, resistance slight after how well Louis’s been prepped for him. They both arch into the pressure of Louis tight and warm, Harry hard and heavy.

Louis sighs up at him willing his eyes to open so he can look at Harry while he fucks him. Harry’s face is concentrated in the way Louis knows means he’s trying not to get too riled up too soon. 

Fuck that, Louis thinks as he hooks his leg around Harry’s waist, has his thigh press Harry deeper into him.

“Louis, unf,” Harry huffs, the breath he exhales setting fire to Louis’s skin. He has one hand up by Louis’s head and the other griping his thigh where it wraps around him as they build up a rhythm. Louis chokes back a cry when Harry finds his prostate again; he finds himself locked in a sweet tango between the stretch of when Harry pulls back and the bliss of when he snaps his hips forward. Sweat covers his body mixing in with Harry’s as he pants into it.

He feels the ball in his stomach come back to life, rising and rising until he thinks he might explode. 

“Not gonna—can’t—“ he gasps before all of his nerve endings catch fire. Harry gets a rough hand between them and works him over the edge as he finally comes onto their bellies, his vision lost his orgasm ripples through his body. 

Harry pounds into him one, two, three more times before Louis feels his entire body shiver atop him and Louis knows he’s gone too. They hold each other as they come down, Louis murmuring sweet nothings into Harry’s ear as they try to catch their breath.

He feels loose and full and perfect, lets his eyes drift shut as he lies in contentment.

Harry’s a good lad and eventually gets up for them and goes in search of something to help clean them up. When Louis bothers to open his eyes again, it’s to Harry cleaning him off, his face showing so much loving adoration. He smiles when Louis looks at him, leans down to kiss the corner of his mouth. 

“I really do love you,” he confesses, squeezing Louis’s hand in his own only a second. As Louis gets dressed, he thinks he could fly around the this entire building fueled on nothing but the high he gets when Harry looks at him.

*******************

The party wanes out after a few hours’ time, Louis keeping Harry by his side as he says goodbye to all his workers and friends. Before long, their mums and a few odd guests are the only people left. Louis notices them standing by the punch bowl after the crowd has thinned out looking the picture of trouble. He nudges Harry in his side to draw his attention to the scene.

"What are you two getting up to?" Harry calls across the room as he and Louis walk towards them.

They start giggling mischievously before they even make it over. That can't be good, Louis thinks

"Nothing," Anne says completely unconvincingly. "We were just saying how proud we are of how far you two have come," she says smiling up at them.

"Yep," Jay agrees, holding back a chuckle. "We remember the two of you from the start. Remember their first Christmas together at the bungalow?" she asks turning towards Anne.

"Sure do," she says with a laugh bubbling out without her consent. "I just hope your neighbors know how to turn a deaf ear," she says as they burst into laughter again.

Harry looks at them confusedly, but Louis gets it immediately and blanches a pale white in front of them.

"You heard us?" he nearly shrieks before he can contain himself. 

Anne looks at him incredulously. "The walls in that place weren't that thin, lovely."

Louis thinks this could be the worst thing that has ever happened. And on his birthday no less.

"Poor Harry was limping all Christmas day," she continues face gone red as she leans into Jay. 

"Mum!" Harry balks, finally catching on. "Oh my god," he cowers into Louis's shoulder. 

"It's fine hon," Jay tries to comfort, "We politely covered our ears. We couldn't even mention it the next day, you two were so happy. Smiling so bright," she says as she and Anne mimic overzealous grins.

"I think I'm dead. I've died and you've killed me, thanks mum," Louis groans. 

"Oh, poppet," she coos coming up to cup his cheeks. "I'm sorry. No need to be upset on your birthday."

"Yeah, we're sorry," Anne agrees, but the apology rings less sincere when it's delivered through snorts. 

"Okay well it was great seeing the two of you, but we really must be going," Louis speeds pulling Harry along with him and running away from their mothers. They end up in Louis's office, staring into space as their worlds have effectively crashed around them.

"I cannot believe," Harry starts after a few minutes but he can't bring himself to finish the statement. 

Louis's head is still hanging in his hands, his back pressed to the door where he refuses to move. 

He sits in stunned silence for god only knows how long until he feels Harry approach him and put a hand to his back. 

"Hey," he says, "Look what I found in our room earlier."

Louis lets himself be humored because anything is better than letting his mind marinate where it is now. He peeks up and sees Harry wielding a picture that Louis never expected to see again. 

"Found it behind the dresser draw," Harry says and Louis's smile eats his whole being as he takes in the picture of them all those years ago on Christmas. 

"Fuck I thought I'd lost this," Louis sighs. It's always left him breathless, the way the two of them are cuddled up together, how they knew from the start that they were special to each other. "We were so happy," he notes, the two in the picture looking like their faces hurt from smiling so big. 

"Still are," Harry says leaning into Louis's space. Louis looks up at him, lets himself get lost in Harry’s gaze. 

“You know what I think’ll make you feel better?” asks Harry. 

Louis quirks an eyebrow. 

“A kiss,” Harry says wielding his mistletoe again.

“Jesus, Harry,” Louis cackles only upset with himself that he didn’t see it coming. 

“C’mon,” Harry pressures nudging Louis’s nose and really what else can he do but lean up press their lips together. Harry’s hands slip seamlessly around his waist as they melt together. Louis doesn’t think his heart could ever be cold enough for a Scrooge when his boy is keeping him so warm.  


**Author's Note:**

> Hey wow thank you for readingg!! I have a [tumblr](http://www.wildhalos.tumblr.com) if you're into that kind of thing. Otherwise MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY HOLIDAYS, be nice to people, spread the holiday cheer, help an old lady cross the street, eat some pillsbury cookies, etc :)


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